Unsupervised Minor
by Visionairy
Summary: John’s on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of Child Services, the family’s worst nightmare occurs.
1. Chapter 1

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, but when an 18 year old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 year old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

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**Chapter 1 - No Choices**

"Got your homework, books, calculator, extra paper ...?" Dean grinned as he checked on the boy following out the door behind him. A stony glare was the only response he got. Dean had graduated this past spring and was not above rubbing that fact in with his little brother. Of course it would be more fun if it bothered him more. It was a pain to have a brother that actually liked school, and he couldn't remember a time when Sam wasn't totally prepared for class. At 14, Sam was more mature than most kids Dean's age. And at 18, Dean was now an adult -- an adult who was once again in charge of his little brother, this time for the next two or three weeks.

Their dad had left on Saturday evening after getting a call from Bobby Singer asking for help on a remote hunt three states over. They were going far out into the wilderness to find out what had been killing some big game hunters. Over the past three months, five fly-in game hunters had gone missing, with only three bodies to show for it. After considerable research, Bobby thought he had a handle on the creature that was killing the hunters, but asked for John's backup since it was so far away from civilization. There was a lot of equipment to be hauled and backup was always important so far away from help.

Dean swiped the leaves off the top of the Impala and unlocked the door. Sam threw his book bag in the back and dropped into the seat. At 14, Sam was almost Dean's height, but was relatively skinny lately after his latest growth spurt. They watched as a school bus drove past the bottom of their drive. "You know, I really should allow you to take the bus each day, dude, instead of giving up my beauty sleep to chauffer you in each day."

"Yeah, well, if you'd just let me drive the car to school each day, you wouldn't have to get up."

A look of feigned horror crossed Dean's face, "You … drive the Impala!? I don't think so. You won't even see a driver's permit for another year, and then you get to learn how to drive in Dad's truck – with Dad." He uttered the last two words as if in a horror movie, and shuddered to go along with the theme.

"Whatever, Dean. I've known how to drive for two years now. Just get moving or you'll be coming in to sign another tardy pass for me."

"Your appreciation is heartwarming." Dean pulled out and headed out to Sam's current school. Dean had graduated last year from a school two moves ago. They'd only lived in this small town for the past two months, and Sam was just starting to take part in school activities again. Now that he was in high school, Dean knew that the frequent moves would get more and more difficult, especially for Sam who didn't put himself out there with the same ease as Dean.

When Sam had mentioned that he'd be going to a basketball game after school today, Dean had been pleased to hear that Sam was beginning to want to join in. Dean turned down the stereo as they got closer to the school. "So what time'll I pick you up after the game?"

"I don't know, I'll call you. It should be over by 8:00. Besides, I think I'm going to be able to catch a ride with Mike."

"Mike who?" Dean glanced over at his brother. He was, after all, responsible for Sam, which included getting him to and from school.

"He's the guy that lives a couple of miles down the road from us. He and a few of his friends were planning to go to the game, too." Dean's rotating hand gesture suggested he should elaborate further. Sam rolled his eyes, "The guy with the blue '68 Mustang."

"Ahhh, now there's a guy who's going to drive home carefully. Okay, Sammy, but call me when you get home. I've got a chance to earn some money helping out a guy on an actual paying job today. When you call, I'll pick up some pizza and meet you at home. And," he grabbed his brother's arm as he was making a quick escape, "…don't stay out too late."

"With the tests I have tomorrow, trust me, I won't be going anywhere but home after the game." Sam eased his wrist out of his brother's grasp with an exaggerated patience, "Got to go, Dean."

"See ya' beanpole." Dean had never been a big fan of school or grades, but he was proud of Sam's accomplishments, and considering what most 14 year olds got up to, himself for one example, he figured he had it easy in the brother-supervision department.

When 5:30 rolled around, Dean was getting frustrated. Tom, the guy that had hired him for the day, hadn't brought enough equipment and supplies for the job, and had had to run out to the store for the third time. Dean doubted they'd ever get the job done. Dean checked his watch again, but realized that Sam probably wouldn't be calling for at least a couple of hours yet, so he hoped he'd be done by the time Sam called.

As Dean strolled over to look out the window again for incoming supplies, his cell rang. He glanced down, surprised that Sam would be calling already, only to realize that it was Pastor Jim's rectory on the other end of the line.

"Jim?." It wasn't that he wasn't happy to hear from his good friend; it was just that in their field, more often than not, an unexpected call was never a good thing.

"Dean, it's Maggie," an anxious voice came over the earpiece. Dean recognized the voice of Pastor Jim's church secretary, a grandmotherly lady that worked part-time at the rectory. "Do you know where I could reach your dad?"

"Maggie, it's good to hear from you, but Dad's out on a job right now. What's going on?"

Maggie sighed. "I don't know, and I'm probably overreacting, but the pastor told me to call your dad if he didn't come back by now."

Now Dean was worried. Maggie's husband, Rick, had been a hunter and she was well aware of what it meant to not come back on time. In fact, that's how she'd ended up working with Pastor Jim, after her husband had died on a hunt many years ago.

"Maggie, it's okay. Tell me what you need." Dean began packing up as he talked.

"Well, honey, Pastor Jim was due back two days ago," Maggie fretted. He doesn't stay away that long without calling me. You know what I mean. He said if he didn't return by today, to call John, - so he must have worried that something might go wrong."

Dean immediately snapped into hunter mode. "How long has he been gone, Maggie?"

"He left six days ago - he was going to visit to an old shut-in way up the Red Hills. It was about a one-day drive and another day hiking in to get to him. He got a message that the older man had a situation he couldn't deal with on his own. Franklin used to attend church regularly until his wife died, then he moved all the way out there. He was an eccentric, and I guess he didn't want to deal with people anymore, but Pastor Jim still tried to keep in touch with him from time to time."

"Do you know what the old man's situation was, Maggie?"

"No, he didn't tell me if he knew. He just said that Franklin was upset about something going on in the area, but he was concerned enough to contact Pastor Jim, and not much scared that old man." Maggie sighed. "You sure you don't know how to contact your dad?"

"Maggie, Dad's already out of touch working with Bobby Singer on a job right now. I can't get hold of him, but I cou …," he paused. His first instinct was to help, but what about Sam? He was supposed to be taking care of him. He couldn't just leave him on his own for that long. What if something happened to him while Dean was away?

That's why he hadn't gone on the hunt with his dad and Bobby. Sam couldn't go, so of course Dean stayed to watch out for him. But Sam was 14 now, and by the time Dean was 14, he had been taking care of Sammy, frequently on his own, for several years by then. Hell, Sam was already hunting with them regularly now when schoolwork allowed.

He knew his dad had ordered him to stay with Sam, but on the other hand, Pastor Jim needed help now, and Dad would have wanted to help him as well. Dean was torn. Neither choice was a good one, but finally deciding that, right now, Pastor Jim needed him more than Sam did, he made up his mind to help. Hopefully, it would just be car trouble or bad cell coverage, and he'd be back within a couple of days.

"Maggie, I know you might still think of me as a kid, but I am an adult now. You know I've been hunting for years, and you know I've gone on plenty of hunts with Dad and even with Pastor Jim. I can at least check into what's happened, call for help if I need it," though for the life of him, Dean couldn't think of who else, beyond his Dad, Bobby or Jim that he could call for something like this. "Did Jim leave the coordinates?"

"Yes, Dean, thank God he did. I'd never be able to tell you how to get there. I can even text them to you. Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you?" He grinned as he heard what sounded like her sorting through her purse. "Are you sure it's okay, though, you going to look for him? What about Samuel?"

"Don't worry, Maggie, he'll be fine. He's old enough to stay on his own for a couple of days." He'd just have to call Sam and let him know what'd come up. Sammy would understand, he'd want him to help Pastor Jim, and he'd probably even enjoy some time to himself for a change. And for the past year, their dad _had_ allowed Sam to take part in their hunts. He must have felt that at 14, Sam wasn't a child, and would be safe enough. Well, Dean acknowledged, there was safe, and then there was Winchester 'safe'. It was safe for him to hunt werewolves and wendigos, but it wasn't safe enough for him to stay home alone. Strangely enough, they all understood and accepted this logic.

He kicked the wall and tried to persuade himself that he was overreacting. Sam would be okay on his own, heck he'd be spending most of his time in school, anyway. He'd go check things out, help get Pastor Jim home, and be home in two days, three tops.

Dean heard the tone that meant a new text message had arrived. "Got it Maggie, thanks. As soon as I get hold of Sam, I'll head out."

"Thank you, Dean. I just didn't know who else to call. Let me know when you find out anything."

"You got it. Talk with you soon, Maggie. And, don't worry. Jim's a tough old man himself."

"Don't let him hear you making that 'old man' comment, or he's likely to tell your dad about the time you …"

"Sorry, Maggie, got to go … the con…ction's break..ng …" Dean flipped his phone closed with a small grin. Then realizing what had to be done next, Dean looked down at his cell, and hoping with all his heart he was doing the right thing, slowly clicked through to Sammy's name.

The phone rang five times before Sam answered, and then all Dean could hear was a lot of loud noises and annoying chants. "Sam … SAM!"

"What … Dean? Hello?"

"Dude, can you even hear me?" Dean spoke louder.

"What?" the volume increased as somebody on the home team must have scored. "Dean … what do you want? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but we need to talk," Dean yelled back into the phone.

"Yeah, okay, just a second. I'll call you right back."

Dean began to pack up his gear as he waited. He found some paper to write a note saying he had to quit the job, and pulled out a map to see where he was headed. Four and half minutes later, his phone rang. "Sam..."

"Dean .." the background noise had diminished considerably. "What's going on?"

"Pastor Jim's missing. I'm sure he's fine, but he's overdue coming back, and you know how Maggie worries."

Sam knew how they all worried when a hunter didn't make it home on time, especially one of their few close family friends. It usually meant there were problems, but how bad the problems were could be highly unpredictable. Most times, it was just a little more work than expected, but other times … he didn't want to think about that. "Well, come get me. I can be ready to leave as soon as you get here."

"No, Sam. I can do this on my own, it's no big deal, I'm just checking out the area… and you know you shouldn't miss any more school." He figured this would go over better than telling his little brother that he wasn't about to take him on this one. Besides, it was one thing to leave him home by himself, quite another if he took it upon himself to take Sam on a hunt that their dad hadn't personally checked out. Dean knew quite well where those limits were. "Do you think you'll be able to catch a ride home with your friend, Mike?"

"Dean, I'm doing fine in school. I can back you up. Let me…."

"Sam! It ain't gonna happen. Can you imagine what dad would say." Dean left the thought hanging.

"Yeah, Dean, I got it," the voice was dejected.

"Just don't go getting into any trouble while I'm gone," The demand was only half in jest.

"Yeah, right, and studying for mid-terms'll leave me plenty of time for that. Don't worry about me, just find Pastor Jim, okay."

Don't worry about Sam? Yeah like that was ever going to happen. Shit, if anything happened to his brother while he was gone, Dean would never forgive himself. Yet, he knew that Sam could handle himself alone, and right now Pastor Jim likely needed him a lot more. "Yeah, well, sorry to leave you like this, but if you make a mess of things while I'm gone, I'm going to find a particularly creative way of getting even."

"Jerk," his brother responded. "Hey, call me and let me know how Pastor Jim's doing when you get to him."

"I doubt there'll be a cell tower when I get up into the mountains, but I'll let you know as soon I get him out of there."

"Okay Dean, but … be careful."

"Dude, you thinking I can't take care of myself? I'll straighten you out when I see you in a few days. Meanwhile, you don't get into any trouble while I'm gone. Salt lines, bolted doors, and _all _the charms and symbols, ya hear me – every night!"

"Like I don't know all that by now." Sam muttered. "Gee, Dean, it's getting louder here again." The crowd noise picked up considerably as Sam obviously made his way back to the game. "Sorry -- can't hear you anymore." But Sam still heard a muffled, "Bitch," as he made his way back up the bleachers to his friends. He smiled. He loved his brother, and was usually glad to have his company. But there was a lot to be said for having some peace and quiet, and it would be nice to have some time to himself for a change.

Dean stopped by the house, grabbed his supplies, and was on his way in less than 30 minutes. As he gunned the Impala on the road out of town, he got that unpleasant feeling again. He knew that the faster he got there, the faster he could get back, and then that disturbing thorny creepy feeling he got in the pit of his stomach every time Sam was left alone, would go away as well.

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I hope this chapter catches your interest. Let me know what you think of the story so far. Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, but when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

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Chapter 2 - The Inquisition 

_Dean stopped by the house, grabbed his supplies, and was on his way in less than 30 minutes. As he gunned the Impala on the road out of town, he got that unpleasant feeling again. He knew that the faster he got there, the faster he could get back, and then that disturbing thorny creepy feeling he got in the pit of his stomach every time Sam was left alone, would go away as well._

The ride home was entertaining. The home team had won, and though Sam couldn't get too excited about it, the guys in the car were elated. Their high spirits were contagious and it had been too long since he'd simply hung out with guys around his own age. Sports, girls, classes … the conversation was predictable, but with a pleasant normality to it that Sam truly enjoyed. He couldn't add much to the conversation, not knowing most of the girls they were talking about, and not being familiar with the old teachers or events they described. He was happy to be just sitting in the back seat absorbing it all.

When one of the guys mentioned Mike's younger sister, describing in detail how he'd rather be alone with her instead, Mike jumped to her defense in a way that reminded Sam of Dean's protective streak, in albeit a completely different way. Dean had never tried to defend Sam's honor that way, in fact quite the opposite. Sam grinned, knowing that if Dean had met Mike's sister, he'd probably be trying to get alone with her right now – or pushing Sammy to do so instead.

Sam leaned peacefully against the window and watched the trees rushing by. It was dark by now, and starting to rain. Since the area was rural, there weren't many cars on the road when they got this far out of town. Mike slowed at the crossroads, and then made a smooth left onto the dirt road where his childhood friends lived. It was a windy, narrow road with trees close in on both sides. It could have looked sinister if Sam was thinking that way. As it was, Sam was relaxed as he watched a large produce truck lumbering toward them in the oncoming lane.

An extra set of lights suddenly pierced the darkness as a large vehicle with brights that sat high off the ground gunned its engine and pulled out to pass the truck. The vehicle was swerving as it pulled forward and just as Sam and Mike recognized the danger, Mike hit the brakes and tried to maneuver around the oncoming vehicles. The dirt road was not accommodating to quick tight turns, and as the Mustang began to slide over the gravel, the sounds were penetrating. The squeal of brakes, the truck's horn, the flying gravel, the rendering of metal and shattering glass, voices cursing, and only one sound ran through Sam's mind … Dean!

As Sam came to, his senses seemed to come online one at a time. He could smell wet leaves, gasoline, brakes, a coppery smell. Sounds gradually were added; people yelling, a man with a slurred voice shouting at someone, a lady's voice above him, but he couldn't quite make out what she was saying, and somewhere in the distance a siren was screaming. Taste; yep, he could definitely taste blood, which helped place the coppery smell. Sight; not quite yet, but as he cautiously pried open his eyes, he could put an out-of-focus face to the voice hovering over him. "Son, take it easy. Try to relax and breathe slowly. We've got an oxygen mask on you right now to help, and I.."

Touch: yep, that was usually the last, and definitely the worst. Pain shot up from his ankle and throughout his left leg, and his chest was pounding. He tried to pull his leg away from whatever was causing so much pain, but it just made it worse. As his breathing sped up, his chest started to compete with his leg for the most attention. Something was definitely wrong there.

"Easy, kid. Settle down and don't move. Breathe slowly. You'll be okay, we just have to get you out of here and to the hospital. Take some deep breaths."

Sam's awareness continued to expand as he cataloged his limbs. His left arm was pinned tightly to his body. His hand was wet and sore, probably cuts, but not broken. His right hand and arm were being held by someone, but were not in any pain. His right leg was pinned as well. It was sore, but other than not being able to move it, it felt okay. As his memory started to come back, he realized that that would make sense, his left side was on the side that was hit. Suddenly he remembered what happened and struggled to move.

"Mike! … Tom … Asher, .."

"Relax," responded the paramedic. "Everyone's alive and we're taking care of each of you right now. Two of your friends are already on the way to the hospital and they'll be fine, and as soon as we finish getting you and Mike, here, out of the car, you'll both be following them."

"Mike! Mike, you okay?" Sam tried to focus on his location, but couldn't make out much in the twisted shapes around him. Every word he spoke caused his chest to tighten and his ribs to grind. He tried to relax and breathe.

"Calm down, Winchester. I'm fine, it looks like you took the brunt of that bastard's truck. How are you doing?" came a strong voice a few feet ahead of him.

Sam was relieved. Considering the force of the collision, it was a miracle that everyone had survived. "I'm … I'm fine." Sam tried to hold in a cough. He gasped again; it was hard pulling in air through his damaged chest. He had been wearing a seat belt, but whatever had hit him hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Son, you need to relax and keep breathing. You've hurt your ribs and it's making it harder for you to breathe. Your friends are doing fairly well – nothing that can't be patched up. But we need to get you stabilized before the fireman can cut you out of this car."

"Cut my car?!!" An agonized voice came from the front seat, "Isn't there any other way to get us out of here? Man, you don't understand, … it's a classic." The familiar sentiment did more to ease Sam's mind than anything else at this point could. "Can't you just pull us out?" Mike's voice continued to plead.

"I'm sorry, Mike, but there's no way we can get either of you out of here without cutting the vehicle. Can you slide your foot out from under the dash?" Some struggling was followed by some curses. "I didn't think so, and if you keep talking that way, I'll have a long chat with your dad when we get you out of here." The words were spoken with affection, and Sam realized that they probably all knew each other, having grown up together in the small town. "And your friend certainly won't be able to pull his leg out from under your seat until we get you out of there."

Relieved that Mike was doing well enough to be concerned about protecting his baby, Sam's attention drifted back to what the paramedic had said. The pain in his ankle and lower leg stabbed deep. His leg was trapped; broken and from what he could feel from below, his ankle wasn't in a normal position either. The throbbing in his chest probably meant a couple of cracked or broken ribs, he recognized that feeling. His blurry vision and nausea weren't a good sign either, but that didn't necessarily mean a concussion. It would just make things more difficult when he had to leave. The other two he could cover up, but the broken leg and ankle were going to be a problem, and Sam knew he couldn't go to the hospital.

A man in a blue police uniform shone a light on him. "Son, what's your name?"

A normal question for anyone else, but Sam couldn't think how to answer. Then from the front seat, he heard Mike's voice again, "Sam. His name's Sam Winchester. Tommy, he just moved here a month or two ago."

"Thanks, Mike." Obviously the young officer knew Mike. "Sam," he turned kindly back to the young Winchester, "how can we get hold of your folks. They'll want to meet you at the hospital."

The pain was making it hard for Sam to think. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. Dad's out of town and unreachable. Dean's already well on his way to help Pastor Jim. Bobby was with Dad, and Pastor Jim was … unavailable. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt despair welling up. As far as a viable adult caregiver, he was out of options. What could he tell the officer that wouldn't eventually end up causing even more problems for him and his family?

"Sam, can you hear me? I just need a phone number."

Another voice, this time an older man spoke up. "Let him rest for a minute, Tommy. Once he catches his breath, you'll get an answer. Meanwhile, let's see if he has a cell phone on him. Most kids do these days." Sam felt the paramedic pull his cell from his jacket pocket, but wasn't sure how he felt when it came out in pieces.

"This phone is in about the same condition as his leg. You won't get anything out of this. Even the card is busted."

Sam struggled to pull himself together. He'd been hurt before, he'd just have to deal with the pain. He'd seen Dean and Dad hurt pretty badly – worse than this. He'd helped patch them up. He knew he needed to find some way to go home, not to some hospital.

Sam forced open his eyes, and gave his best effort at a smile,. "Thanks, sir, but," he tried to move himself again, which just resulted in more painful synapses firing, "Urgh" Breathe slowly, Sam demanded of himself. He willed the spots in his vision to go away and his hearing to return. He wasn't going to pass out now.. "…so, once I can get ... get out of the car, if I could just … be taken home … I'll be fine."

Apparently, Sam's smile was lacking its usual finesse. Pale, sweaty, and shaky, he didn't look like he would stay conscious, let alone go home by himself. The paramedics glanced at each other. The older one looked down at the teen. "Sam, you may be worried that you'll get in trouble if your parents find out that you were in this car, possibly without their permission, but believe me, they'll want to be there for you when they hear what that drunk did to you and your friends. We can't in good conscience allow you to go anywhere but to the hospital right now, so you might as well give Tommy those numbers."

Since Sam knew he didn't have the strength or the resources to get away on his own, he resorted to damage control. The longer he avoided giving them the phone numbers, the longer it would take them to realize that nobody was going to come to meet him at the hospital or anywhere else for that matter for quite a while.

This was the worst case scenario, a situation that was never supposed to happen. And now what if child services were brought in. Shit, he was so screwed! His dad and Dean going to be so royally pissed at him. Still fighting the moisture that threatened his eyes, Sam was furious with himself. He was supposed to stay under the radar, not be the center of attention at the worst possible time. Sick with the thought and miserable from fighting the pain, Sam finally stopped fighting. And when they finally started cutting his leg out from under the seat, he found he couldn't do anything except push back into the seat behind him, grit his teeth, and simply pass out.

Dean, who was by now well into the rural area of the Red Hills, and who, for the last hour had felt an uncomfortable clenching in the pit of his stomach, decided to pull over and get a Coke to settle it down. He wasn't sure what was worrying him more, Pastor Jim's situation, or leaving Sam alone at home for a few days.

Shaking his head, he wondered if he'd ever accept that Sam was old enough to take care of himself. His dad's most urgent words, 'Take care of your brother, Dean.' flitted through his mind, but the more rational side of him knew that Sam would be insulted to think Dean thought so little of him that he couldn't even take care of himself at home. Dean took a few sips of his Coke, and felt his hand straying to the cell phone in his pocket.

One quick call wouldn't hurt. He'd just be making sure Sam got home okay – same as if he was still there. Or he could just be calling to say goodnight. Yeah, right, now who's the princess. As he glanced at his cell, he knew the point was moot. He was already out of cell phone range. He'd have to trust that Sammy was okay and working on that test he had coming up the next morning. That image calmed him somewhat and he put the Impala in drive and roared off down the winding mountain road.

The next time Sam came around, someone was shaking his arm. Sam tried to ignore it, he would rather be asleep, but the voice was being more insistent. "Sam. Sam Winchester… you need to wake up. Please, Sam, we need to talk to you for a minute, and then you can go back to sleep. Sam!" The sounds and the smells were different now, and the voice was new, but it wouldn't go away. "Come on, Sam. I know you're hurting, but you need to wake up."

Suddenly his leg and chest came to life in a spectacularly excruciating way. Sam couldn't help cringing from the pain and regretted it instantly when the voice obviously realized that Sam was back with them. "That's it Sam. We can make you feel much better as soon as we can get hold of your parents. Can you give me their phone number so we can help you."

Another voice spoke up. "Come on Sam, none of the other boys has your folks number." The hand on his arm became a gentle squeeze. "Please, Sam, I don't like to see you in pain, and your leg and ankle are already swelling. We'd really like to speak to someone who can approve the needed medical treatment for you right now." There was a slight pause, then, "Sam, if you can't remember, we can send the police out to your house, but it would be faster if we could call at least one of your parents so we can get started now."

Sam groaned. He was so angry he'd let this happen. Dean or his dad were going to kill him. And now the hospital, which he had clearly ended up at despite his best intentions, would not be able to contact either of them. Damn it! The small family always went out of their way to stay under the radar and make sure the schools and especially social services were never aware of their unique life style. The local authorities certainly wouldn't understand their father's quest, or Dean and Sam's frequent autonomy, and unquestionably not their injuries from the hunts they did go on with their dad.

He squinted through half-closed eyes and finally responded. "My mom's dead, I live with my dad and older brother. But, I … I just want to go home now … please."

"Listen, Sam," a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard moved directly in front of him. "My name is Dr. Daniel Phillips, and I'll be your doctor. I can't simply let you go home in the condition you're in. I know you can feel your injuries. Moving will exacerbate them and could even cause a life-threatening situation. So, no, you can't leave."

Sam remembered a recent situation where his dad had signed himself out of the hospital days before the doctors felt he'd be ready. "But I can… I can sign papers that say you have to let me go."

"Sam, I'm sorry, you just can't leave yet. I know you're extremely uncomfortable, but you certainly wouldn't feel any better at home until we can treat you here." He looked sadly at his suffering patient. He really needed a parent here. "And in any case, Sam, you're a minor and don't have the legal right to sign yourself out of the hospital."

Damn it! He hadn't though about that. Why did he always have to be too small or too young to do what needed to be done? He always seemed to be the family liability.

"Now if you can remember a phone number that we can use to call your dad, or your brother, I'll have someone call both of them right away." The doctor waited for Sam's response, and failing to get one, he sighed and continued. "Sam, are you listening?"

At a tight nod, he went on. "You don't seem too anxious to have your dad come to the hospital. Can you tell me why?" This didn't seem right. Most kids wanted their family as soon as possible in this kind of situation. "Are you afraid he'll be angry with you for something? Are you … worried he'll be mad, that he might hurt you?"

"No, no .. he's great." Sam blurted, and then took a few more shallow breaths. "We get along great, and Dean already knew I'd be with Mike. It was okay with him. I just know Dad's busy and out of town, and I …"

"Sam, I'm sure he'll want to come home as soon as he hears what happened. Give Gina his number and she'll be right back. He's not going to want you to be in pain any longer than absolutely necessary. Sam, ...please."

Sam finally relented when he realized that it wasn't helping his case to put if off anymore. "Home is 555-704-3826." He'd try to stretch out the facts and maybe by then Dean might be back. They couldn't fault him in this situation for forgetting that his dad was on a business trip. He moved slightly and the pain shot up his leg again making breathing difficult, and with the injuries in his chest, it just added to the fun.

"Okay, Sam, thanks. Hang in their kid, we'll call your house and see how quickly your dad can get out here."

Sam just sighed. This just kept getting better and better. He laid stiffly immobile on his back trying not to move anything that would awaken the spiking pain from earlier. Now how long would it take for them to find out that his dad would not be calling back?


	3. Chapter 3

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, but when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Purgatory**

_Sam just sighed. This just kept getting better and better. He laid stiffly immobile on his back trying not to move anything that would awaken the spiking pain from earlier. Now how long would it take for them to find out that his dad would not be calling back?_

Only about 20 minutes passed this time before a nurse came back in with some ice chips, followed by Dr. Phillips. He pulled up a chair and rolled it over to Sam's gurney. Crossing his arms he watched Sam while the nurse checked his blood pressure and temperature and wrote down his vitals. The doctor then placed some fresh ice packs around his leg and ankle, and taped one around his left wrist as well. He listened to Sam's breathing and checked the swelling in his chest, head and leg. "Sam, I'm sorry, but we haven't been able to reach your dad yet. There's no answer at your home, does he have a cell phone?"

"Yes," Sam had decided it was necessary to parcel out the next piece of information, "but I wanted to tell you, I'd forgotten …," he tried to take a deep breath and flinched, "he's on a business trip right now." He paused to take a couple more shallow breaths, "and we can only reach him when he gets cell coverage." This strategy would be a hell of a lot easier to work out if they'd give him something to ease the pain.

"Okay, then what company does he work for? Someone there would know how to reach him in case of an emergency."

"He's self-employed."

"Hmm," the doctor looked closely at Sam's face. "Can we contact your grandparents?"

"They died before I was born."

"Well, what about your brother, Dean is it? How old is he and where can we call him?"

Couldn't they just leave him alone? "Dean's an adult and is taking care of me while my dad's out of town."

"Yes, I'm sure he is." Dr. Phillips continued to try to read the young man in front of him. Sam scowled because he didn't like the inference that if Dean _was_ taking care of him, he'd be here. He reluctantly provided Dean's cell phone number, since he didn't want to risk looking as if he didn't want to see his family.

"And give me your dad's cell as well and we'll leave a message, I'm sure he'll check for those whenever he gets a chance."

"Sure," Sam responded, and provided yet another set of numbers. His night was not improving. If things weren't bad enough already, this could turn into a major disaster if they got the impression that Sam was on his own.

Dr. Phillips adjusted Sam's pillow and re-checked the ice packs. He really did seem to care about him – which only made the situation worse. "Don't worry, Sam, as soon as we get parental permission, we'll give you some stronger painkillers and get you into surgery. In the meantime, we can at least give you some more Tylenol, take some x-rays, and wrap your ribs so we're ready to go when we hear from your dad." Sam just gave him a tight-lipped smile and wished that Dean was here with him to handle the people, the lies and the paperwork … and just get him home.

Misunderstanding Sam's concerns, the doctor leaned over. "Sam, you know we'd give you stronger pain killers right now if we could, but according to hospital policy, we can't give you any strong drugs or do anything invasive without first having parental permission. I'm truly sorry, son. I'll let you know as soon as we hear from him."

An hour later, his ribs were even more uncomfortable from the wrapping and his leg and ankle were in even greater agony from the positioning needed for the x-rays. And with the Tylenol not even touching the least of the pain, his nurse, Gina, reappeared. "Hi Sam, you were right, your dad is a hard guy to get ahold of. We're also not getting any answer from your brother, Dean, right now either. We've left messages, but is there anyone else we could call for you – an aunt or uncle, perhaps, or a cousin, a family friend?"

Sam knew this was just going to keep getting more and more complicated. He wished he could just tell them that there would be nobody available for at least three days, but he knew that wouldn't go over well when it involved health care for a 14 year old minor. He could feel the traitorous tears building. No! He couldn't let them see that he was upset, it would just make them want to do something stupid. He would not give them the excuse to call Social Services.

"Family's small," he managed to grit out. "Just my dad and Dean. Dean had to leave earlier today to help out a sick friend." He turned his head and glared at her. "I am fourteen you know," the pain was making him angry. "I can take care of myself."

"I know Sam, and nobody's questioning that. It's the medical system is set up to require parental permission before treating a minor."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just …" Sam rested his good arm over his forehead to block out the light. He had been in pain for so long now, and it was incredibly draining, both physically and emotionally.

"It's okay, Sam. Rest now. We'll let you know when they call," but as she stood, Sam caught her arm. "How are my friends doing?"

"Well, their families have come… and, they weren't hurt as badly as you. They've all been treated and released. Come to think of it, one of the boys stopped by before he left. I think his name was Mike. He wanted to check on you, but you were in radiology. The boy said he'll check up on you later."

"Thanks," he tried to breathe in and out slowly. Then he had another horrible thought, "They know the crash wasn't Mike's fault, the police know, don't they?"

"Yes, Sam, I heard the alcohol reading on the drunken idiot driving the SUV made that quite clear. Now get some rest and I'm sure Dr. Phillips will be in shortly." She smiled at him, then picked up the file, turned and left him alone again.

It was now nine hours since the accident, and Sam had not been allowed any treatment beyond oxygen, ice, ace bandages, saline, and Tylenol. He could tell his entire leg was swelling, it had obviously been splinted on site, but it just continued to throb. He was sure he also had at least two broken ribs by the way he could feel them grind every time he took a decent breath. Even now that they were wrapped, it still made breathing a special agony unto itself. And though he was fairly certain he didn't have a concussion, the nausea remained.

As much as he hated taking strong painkillers that messed with his mind and his stomach, he really wished he could have some now and just drift away for a while; or at least some stronger pills that would manage to take the edge off. It was impossible to find a comfortable position. He hated to admit it, but he desperately wanted Dean to be here. Dean would know what to do, and would make sure he was taken care of. Sam could just lay back and let his big brother handle everything, Dean was good at that. He knew what stories to tell, and what the docs wanted to hear. They would stop asking him all these stupid questions and he could just go to sleep.

But he knew it was no use trying to call Dean. If he could have answered his phone, he would have spoken with him already. But Dean hadn't expected to be reachable for at least a couple of days, probably more – and Pastor Jim's life could be at stake. Sam quickly wiped away the stray tear that fought its way out. He would have to be strong, he was fourteen, he could do this … he had to.

A short time later, however, his body rebelled. He began to wretch and uncontrollable shivers started running up and down his spine. His doctor was immediately called. Listening to the symptoms, and concerned about shock, Dr. Phillips arranged for more blankets and raised both legs. This development did result in some anti-nausea drugs to accompany the Tylenol, as well as an additional dose of a light sedative. If his doctor was feeling guilty, who was he to complain. Eventually, Sam slipped once again into a restless slumber.

After leaving Sam's room Dr. Phillips stopped by Radiology to check on his x-rays, and his concerns for the young man only increased when he saw two older healed fractures on the 14 year old's ribs. They looked like they might have occurred at different times. And when he checked his leg x-ray, in addition to current damage that he had expected, once again he saw the remains of a previous break to the boy's foot.

Unless brittle bone disease was the situation here, which he strongly doubted, this child had possible markings of an abusive household. These indications, along with the apparent disregard of the adequate supervision of a minor child, distinctly worried the physician. Sam seemed like a good kid who loved his family, but he'd seen some first-rate cover-ups in his day, and it looked like this was turning out to be one of those situations.

As he finished his notes, and before he finished his shift later that morning, he dropped back into his patient's room to see how he was doing. It was brutal to see what the kid had to endure with all the latest treatments not 10 feet away. How could any parent, or older brother even, allow this to happen? Dr. Phillips had two daughters, and he himself was an older brother. He knew he'd have to be dead before he'd let any member of his family go through something like this.

After speeding toward the coordinates Maggie had provided, Dean was frustrated when he got on the narrow mountain roads. The terrain was a lot rougher and produced more switchbacks than he had expected. The trip itself took almost twice as long as Dean had planned. The closest small town to Jim's probably location was made up of just a handful of old buildings; a grocery/hardware store, a parts supply depot, a gas station, and a diner. Though his cell had no coverage in this isolated mountain area, Dean pulled to a stop as soon as he spotted the blue and white pay phone sign in front of the gas station. He checked his watch. It was 4:30 in the morning. Not wanting to wake Sam yet, and realizing it was too early to talk to anyone in the town, let alone head up into the brush in the dark, Dean stretched out as much as he could in the Impala. He set his watch alarm and eventually fell asleep.

The beeping jarred him awake. Dean stretched and hit his head on the window. It was still mostly dark out, but Dean knew he would have to get going if he wanted to catch Sam. He checked his watch and jumped up to use the pay phone before Sam left for school. Cursing when he realized he didn't have the change, Dean raced back to the Impala.

"Come on, come on. Just another damn dime." Dean rooted through the glove compartment. "Ah ha!" grabbing his loot, Dean raced back across the parking lot and fed the antiquated machine. As he thought about where he'd start first in his investigation, he could hear the line begin to ring.

Dean checked his watch. He still had twenty minutes before Sam would be leaving for school. The line continued to ring. "Pick it up, Sammy. Come on … just pick it up." Two more rings, and it clicked over to the answering machine. "Damn it, Sammy. Just because you're alone doesn't mean you get to use up all the hot water." He smiled picturing the simple enjoyment Sam would get from finally getting a long and hot shower for a change.

He hit the refund button several times, but the coins wouldn't come back out, so Dean ran back to the Impala on a search for more. It took another five minutes to find another hoard of coins and Dean was back at the box. A second try just resulted in the same results. Dean didn't like that, not at all, but he realized that Sam had had to make other arrangements to get to school that morning, he could be on his way in or waiting outside for his ride. This time when it clicked over to the machine, Dean left a quick message "Hey, Sam … wait'll Dad sees the bill for all that hot water, you'll be sorry. And next time, answer the freaking phone!"

Using the last of his change, Dean called Sam's cell which immediately went to voice mail. He decided not to leave another message since there was no way the kid could call him back anyway.

Dean was thinking of several ways of maiming said younger brother when he would finally got hold of him. Why pick today of all days not to answer the damn phone. Maybe he went in early for a review session. Sam liked to do that before a big test. Determined that the faster he got Jim back, the faster he'd get back to harming Sam, he headed over to the diner to see if he could get some answers. He just hoped Sam was making the most of his precious personal time.

Though the inhabitants of this town were familiar with the man Pastor Jim had come to see, they were a closed-mouth lot and nobody admitted to even having seen the preacher. In fact, after several hours of asking around and trying to dig up at least some information, nobody in that town admitted to knowing anything. It made him wish he hadn't stayed up to watch Deliverance again last month. And as much as he was anxious to get moving, he resisted heading up the mountain without at least having some idea of what he might be up against. He couldn't take the entire trunk with him, after all.

Finally, a gangly kid who worked at the local gas station was the one who gave him his first idea of what may have waylaid the pastor. Dean struck up a conversation with the teen after he bought some junk food and supplies for his hike up the mountain. The kid was really impressed with the Impala, and after Dean let him take a close look at everything but the trunk, he'd made his closest friend yet in the small town. Eventually Dean steered the conversation toward local lore, but other than the usual haunted abandoned cabin stories, there was nothing to indicate any recent violence or disappearances. After checking his watch and realizing that it wouldn't do him any good to try to reach Sam now, he headed toward the car.

"You might want to be careful where you park that ride," the kid finally ventured as he followed him out.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, we've had …" the kid glanced around uneasily, "we've had some strange people coming through here from time to time. Sometimes valuable things disappear."

"Strange - how?" Dean leaned against the driver's door.

The kid glanced around again, "Brad says to mind my own business, but I think there's something going on up in those hills north of town."

"Really?" the kid had Dean's full attention now.

"Well, there are a handful of them, big guys, and they drive some very expensive rides for people around here. Large new 4x4's with full-out luxury upgrades, not the kind of pick-ups folks around here drive. First time I saw 'em I thought they were gonna rob the place – all of 'em were armed – hand guns hidden in their belts, not like the old hunting rifles folks usually carry." He looked around again to make sure nobody was in hearing distance, "And there was something else, too. When Brad asked 'em about their plans – just to strike up a conversation ya' know, they threw him up against the side of the store and almost choked him to death before one of the others stopped him. Told him he better mind his own business if he knew what was good for him."

"Do you know where they stay?"

"Nah, but I saw them taking the old dirt trail off from old man Heigle's place once."

At Dean's prompting, he gave him directions to what turned out to be a trail more than a road. It had been heavily camouflaged. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hide the tracks and the widened trail from the road. Deciding that his baby would be a little too conspicuous, and too low to the ground to drive up the trail, he found a place about a mile down the old mountain road where he could do a little camouflage himself.

Grabbing his supplies and arming himself properly, he headed out. It wasn't hard to follow the trail, those big pick-ups left plenty of broken branches and tracks, but it was a good six hours of vertical hiking later and becoming dark before Dean spotted an old familiar pick-up in the brush about 100 yards off the trail. Running quickly to the side of the old truck, Dean was relieved to see it was empty, but all four tires had been slashed. His concern shot up when he spotted the broken back window and the dried blood on the seat and steering wheel. At least there wasn't a larege pool of blood or any direct evidence of someone being dragged from the site.

Dean looked around for a blood trail but couldn't find anything, but it could have rained since Jim had been here. Pulling out his gun to have at the ready, he continued to follow the trail he'd been on. It didn't take too long for him to spot the 4x4's parked under a handful of large green tarps slung across some tall wooden poles. Dean became even more wary, and just barely spotted a trip wire as he kept to the trees. He was careful to watch out for additional traps along the way. He tripped those that he could quietly manage in case he had to make a quicker getaway.

In the distance, Dean could just make out fields of swaying plants. There was only a couple of plants that Dean figured would require this much security and he didn't like it.

Twelve hours later, Dr. Phillips was back on duty and was anxious to see how his patient was faring. Before he left, he'd warned the staff that if Mr. Winchester showed up, he was not to be left alone with the boy. Unfortunately, that precaution hadn't been necessary – the man had not even called, let alone put in an appearance. Neither had his older brother, Dean, who was supposed to be looking out for him.

In retrieving the case back from his colleague on the day shift, he realized that Sam was still suffering considerable pain. The swelling on his leg had remained stable, but his breathing hadn't improved. He was pale, sweaty, and though he tried to hide it, still shaky. Though there was no immediate indication, there was still a small chance of a tiny internal bleeder, and if so, the longer it went on his situation could became worse. And if the surgery wasn't done on his leg soon, there could be permanent damage to nerves and muscle. As far as Dr. Phillips was concerned, even though it was not a matter of life and death, this boy needed treatment and he needed it now!

The only way the hospital would allow him to proceed now was to petition the court to have Samuel Winchester made a ward of the state based on child abandonment. Then the court could mandate medical care to Dr. Phillips, and Social Services could take over the legal care of the young man. Maybe it would help for the boy to be placed in foster care at this point. Though he was sad to have to go there, he wasn't even sure the boy's own family would notice.

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_Thank you so much for your reviews. I appreciate any comments. And don't worry, Dean will have to come back soon._

_For a recent school trip, we were warned that in going into a particular state, all kids needed notarized medical permission forms or they would not be treated, even in an emergency. Thus, this idea was born. Let me know what you think. Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. When John's on a job, and an 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, Sam is left home on his own. When a drunk driver brings him to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

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****Chapter 4 - ****Retrieval**

_The only way the hospital would allow him to proceed now was to petition the court to have Samuel Winchester made a ward of the state based on child abandonment. Then the court could mandate medical care to Dr. Phillips, and Social Services could take over the legal care of the young man. Maybe it would help for the boy to be placed in foster care at this point. Though he was sad to have to go there, he wasn't even sure the boy's own family would notice._

Dean crept closer to the buildings on the edge of the cannabis farm. The plants went on for a long way interspersed and camouflaged among occasional old growth trees. The crop would be worth a damn fortune, which meant that their aversion to visitors could be quite lethal. Dean could only hope that Jim was still alive. Trying to avoid detection and staying away from the sounds of men's angry voices coming from the main building, Dean checked out the perimeter. He quietly inspected each possible storage area.

One of the last sheds he checked, because it was closest to the occupied building, hit pay dirt. Pastor Jim was tied up and locked into an old shed, thankfully not far from the edge of the tree line. Brushing his hand against the grimy window, Dean could just make out their old family friend, but got no response to his sounds. Dean quickly picked the lock and with gun at the ready, advanced into the shed.

He was alone in there, but Pastor Jim was definitely in bad shape. Dean cut the ropes from his arms and legs and removed the filthy gag they'd stuffed in his mouth. It appeared that the monsters had decided to let nature take its course and hoped the older man died slowly and miserably. "Jim," Dean whispered urgently. "Jim, wake up."

Dean could see how dry and cracked his lips were. It didn't look like he'd had much of anything to drink in days. "Jim, wake up, we've got to go." Dean patted his cheek, "Jim!"

Finally the pastor's head rolled toward his voice, and his eyes opened just a slit. "John," he croaked, "… is that you?"

"Sorry, Pastor," he gently examined the man for the source of the blood he'd seen earlier. "You get the newer, though not necessarily improved, version of John Winchester."

Jim seemed to be coming around more now, "Dean?"

"You got it," he said half-heartedly as he found two bullet holes in the man; one in his lower leg, and one in his shoulder. Luckily it appeared to be a small caliber bullet, and there was at least one exit wound. The bad news was that both wounds looked hot and angry, a sure sign of infection. They hadn't even been cleaned.

"Dean," Jim's voice was rough, "You have to get out of here."

"Yeah, Jim, that's the plan." Dean grabbed a bottle of water out of his bag and urged the pastor to drink.

Taking a few small sips, the pastor's raspy voice carried on, "Dean, they're vicious. They already killed a friend of mine who lived up here. They caught up to me when I was coming back down after I'd found his body."

"How many are there?"

"Don't know for sure, but at least five."

"No problem then," Dean assured. "Can you travel?"

Pastor Jim may have been a man of the cloth, but he was also a tenacious hunter and as far as Dean was concerned, he was just as stubborn as the Winchester men. He gritted his teeth and reached his arm out to Dean for a hand up. Stifling a scream at the sudden movement and weight on his injured leg, Jim collapsed against Dean forcing him to lower his weapon. Not the best of circumstances, but then again, he didn't really expect this to be easy for them.

With Jim leaning awkwardly against Dean and Dean repositioning his firearm so he would have it ready as needed, they made slow progress as they made their way back down the overgrown path. Luckily the idiots that were in the main building appeared to be careless enough not to have set up any guards.

Keeping quiet, Dean balanced his injured friend and led the way back to the trucks. Pulling out his knife he made quick work of the tires on two of the three vehicles, and then cut the gas lines for good measure. Then pushing Jim up into the cab of the last truck, he checked around again before hot-wiring the vehicle and hearing it growl into life. The time for subterfuge was over, as he threw the behemoth into gear and spun the tires getting it out onto the main trail.

Several shots rang out behind them as the men belatedly realized what had happened. The rear window shattered with a lucky shot, but the bullets missed them and he was able to make good their escape. None too soon, Dean figured, when he saw the slumped figure of the pastor next to him. Brushing broken glass out of his hair, Dean checked on Jim. Blood was flowing freely again from his leg and shoulder. Dean drove for another ten minutes before he felt it was safe enough to pull over and quickly put some pressure bandages in place. Grabbing the bottle of pain killers, he pulled out three and handed them to Jim, along with more water. The rest of his repairs would have to wait till he got to town.

Jim, despite his overwhelming urge to gulp the water, satisfied himself with more small sips until his stomach settled. "Thanks, Dean, for coming to get me." Then his head tilted back and Dean wasn't sure if he was asleep or unconscious. He drove faster.

He drove down the mountain, trying to avoid the stomach wrenching holes and logs that littered the trail. Dean reflected that even though he'd managed to rescue Pastor Jim, he still had a bad feeling in his stomach that would not go away. He wasn't sure what caused it in this case. He knew he wanted to get Jim to a doctor as soon as possible and make sure he was going to be okay. But from experience with this particular feeling, he was reasonably sure that it wouldn't leave him until Dean was able to talk to Sam. He just needed to know that his sibling was okay.

After a particularly jarring bump, Pastor Jim rolled his head toward Dean, "Is your dad nearby?"

"Nah, he and Bobby were already on a job, couldn't get hold of him."

"How did you know to come look for me?"

"Maggie. She was really worried."

"I knew there was a reason I kept that old lady around," Jim smiled. "How about Sam, where's he?"

"School," Dean tried to sound neutral, like it was typical for him to leave Sam on his own.

"Oh," the pastor looked puzzled. He thought he might be missing something from Dean's expression.

"What?" Dean turned toward him. "Sam shouldn't miss school, and he's fourteen now, you know. He's fine on his own for a few days."

Pastor Jim tried to focus on Dean's tone. It sounded slightly defensive and also somewhat guilty. Of course Sam was old enough to stay by himself for a few days, and Dean had been taking care of Sam on his own for several years before he turned 14. But knowing the way both John and Dean watched over the youngest Winchester, he knew it didn't happen often.

"Dean," he found the painkillers were making him sleepy, but he wanted to tell him, "I know you'd rather not leave Sam alone, and I wish I hadn't put you in this situation." Pastor Jim hated that he was the reason the boys were split up.

"Hey, hey … don't say that. You've always been there for us when we've needed you. Sam was all for me coming up here to help you."

"How about your dad, Dean?" He watched as Dean flinched at the words.

"Of course, he'd want to help you. Are you kidding me? And in any case, he'll be back in a couple of weeks, and by then, it will all be old history." Dean's cocky words didn't fool Jim for a minute. He knew that there may be hell to pay when John got home, but he was immensely grateful for Dean's skill in rescuing him. He'd been taught by the best. He owed Dean, and John, and he knew it.

As Dean continued to drive, Jim fell in and out of consciousness. Dean alternated between speeding up to get him to a doctor faster, and slowing down to handle the terrain. Finally, Dean cleared the last layer of trees and pulled out onto the road. Debating if he had time to switch the truck for the Impala, Dean decided that he would have to make the time if he was going to avoid potential delays down the road.

He hid the truck in the same place he had stored his baby, but he flattened the tires on this truck as well before he eased Jim out of one vehicle and into the familiar black upholstery of the Impala. Jim was able to stretch out in the back and Dean took a few minutes to recheck his bandages and make sure there was no additional bleeding.

From his time in town, he already knew the direction of the closest hospital. The bad news was it was in the opposite direction of his brother. But, Jim needed help and he needed it now, so Dean took off toward the northwest – he had two more towns to go before he could get him the help he needed and nothing was going to stop him till he got there.

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Sam lay in bed, nauseous and in an unrelenting pain that wouldn't cut him a break. He couldn't remember being more miserable, and that wasn't even so much do with the pain or the nausea, but with the fact that he had neither Dean or his dad there to support him. He told himself again that he knew they couldn't come, it wasn't their fault, and he understood why. But one of his biggest concerns right now was what the hospital's reaction to this would be. And then, of course, what Dean's and Dad's reaction would be to that. 

It was obvious from the sympathetic and frustrated faces around him, that this had not gone unnoticed. Ever since Dr. Phillips came back on shift, his pain seemed to have receded enough that he could sleep, and Sam was suspicious that he was going beyond strict protocol in administering pain meds. He had quizzed Sam repeatedly about any drug allergies, and if he'd ever had any previous surgeries or serious injuries. Sam told him that he wasn't allergic to anything, but wasn't sure what to admit to in the way of previous injuries. He finally decided that his broken foot would be the best to come clean on, since that happened to a lot of kids involved in sports at his age.

As he stared at the ceiling, he heard a cough at the door. Since his nurses and doctor always just came right in, he turned in hope to see who was there. Mike was standing there smiling at him. "Mind if I come in."

Sam nodded. He was really glad to see a friendly face. "Good to see you, man." Breathing was a little easier since he hadn't moved lately, and the oxygen was definitely helping.

Mike hobbled in on a walking ankle cast. "Keep it down, will ya' Winchester." He looked around guiltily, "I'm not supposed to be 'disturbing' you, but Karen is a student volunteer here, and she told me where I could find you."

He moved slowly toward the bed. "Hey Sam, I'm … I'm really sorry this happened to you. I tried to.."

"Mike, there was nothing you could do. I saw the guy the same time you did. The bastard was drunk." He had to pause to catch a few breaths, "But thanks to your driving, we all survived, and with just minimal injuries." Looking at his friend, Mike hated to think what Winchester thought were extensive injuries. "Hey, how are you doing? How about Tom and Asher?"

"Better than you. They walked away with a few cuts and some bad bruises. They're already back to school. But, how 'bout you. What's going on? That night they kept asking us how to get hold of your dad or your brother. Where are they?" Mike looked closer at his friend, the sheen on his face and the tightness around his eyes and mouth. "Man, you like you're hurting. Tell them to give you some of the drugs they gave me – they really helped."

"I'm fine, Mike."

"You sure don't look fine. Why don't you have a cast on your leg yet?"

"I'm sure they'll do it when they think it's necessary." Sam was happy Mike had stopped by, but this was getting uncomfortable.

"When it's necessary?? Hell, you've been here over 24 hours and you look even worse than you did then. What's going on?"

"I'm kind of tired Mike. Maybe we can catch up later."

"Oh, okay … sure. Sorry. Where's Dean? Maybe I can talk to him, tell him to let me know how you're doing – if you need anything."

"I … I'm not ..I'll tell him you stopped by – and to give you a call." Sam began to feel a headache rising again.

Mike looked around the room. There were no magazines, used coffee cups, chair pulled up near the bed. It all started to fit together. "They haven't come yet?" his voice rose with the accusation.

Sam looked back up at the ceiling. This was getting even worse.

"They haven't treated you - because they haven't even come to see you yet!?!"

"They would be here if they could," Sam growled back at him. He could hold out until they got back, whenever it was. Now if people would just leave him the hell alone.

Mike took a step back, he wasn't trying to make Sam feel worse. "I'm sorry, Sam. Is there any way I can help find them. Have they even been able to get a message to them yet?"

"No, Mike, and they won't be able to for a while. Dad's on a business trip and can't be reached. Dean had to go help an old friend who could be in a much worse situation than I am. I'm fine and I'll deal until he gets here and gets me out. Now unless your friend, Karen, can arrange to get me released, I'm…" the emotional words made Sam breath harder and that was causing a cough to build. His ribs were too fragile for it and as the coughs broke out, he turned two shades paler and Mike saw tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Mike quickly pushed the nurse's button on Sam's bed, "You better get in here now, Sam needs help!" He walked to the door, and as soon as he some a nurse heading quickly their way, he stepped back over to Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam. I better go now before they ban me from your room. Take care of yourself, and I'll stop in again soon."

A nurse came in immediately after Mike had left. She cast a wary glance at Sam and moved quickly to adjust his oxygen and take more readings. His chest was killing him now and all Sam wanted to do was sleep until Dean was back at his side.

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_Well, Dean's only got one more stop now before he can head home. Thanks for taking the time to review. It's really appreciated!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. When John's on a job, and an 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, Sam is left home on his own. When a drunk driver brings him to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

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_A nurse came in immediately after Mike had left. She cast a wary glance at Sam and moved quickly to adjust his oxygen and take more readings. His chest was killing him now and all Sam wanted to do was sleep until Dean was back at his side._

Pulling up next to the emergency entrance, Dean helped Pastor Jim into the hospital. Due to the serious nature of his wounds, he was taken right in. Also due to the _cause_ of his wounds, Dean was required to speak with the police before he could leave. Dean wanted to get home as soon as possible, but he had to make sure the pastor was in good hands first – and he had to let the police know about the murdering group of drug runners they had in their hills. On the good side, there was at least a phone here that he could use that didn't rely on cell phone towers.

Ring … ring … ring … ring ..., Dean couldn't believe Sam hadn't answered yet. Yes, it was the middle of the night, but damn it, he could at least answer the phone, ... ring ... ring ... click, and his dad's familiar voice came on the line, "Leave a message."

Okay, Sam hadn't woken up, which was unusual, but he'd try again; ring ... ring. This time it only rang twice before switching over to the recording. He knew Sam could be a heavy sleeper these days, but he was going to put an extension right next to the boy's ear as soon as he got home. And, despite his rationalizations, the turmoil in his stomach doubled.

Just as he was getting ready to try Sam's cell, the police tracked him down and he spent the next thirty minutes explaining the who, what, where, when and why of Jim's rescue to the officers. Finally, when his story about the truck had panned out, they let him go to check on Jim.

Jim had been moved to a room where they'd elevated his leg and given him an IV and stronger medicine for the pain. The doctor was just coming back in the room. "Doctor Kim, this is Dean," Jim explained with pride in his voice, "He's the young man who rescued me."

"Dean, it's good to meet you. It looks like you got to your friend just in time. Between the injuries, the infection and the dehydration, he wasn't going to last much longer on his own." The doctor shook Dean's hand. "And, by the way, you did a fine job patching him up for the trip here. You have medical experience?"

"No," Dean grimaced, "just lots of experience."

Jim shot him a warning look and Dean shut up.

"How is he, doc?"

"Well, he's got surgery ahead of him and we'll be able to determine a lot more from that, but it looks like the bullets missed the major arteries and vital organs or we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'll get in there and patch him up, and put him up in a room here with us for a while, then barring any unforeseen circumstances, in time he should be good as ever."

"Oh, that's all, " Dean, bantered "can't make any improvements while you're in there?"

"Joke it up kid," Jim replied. "I'll be resting while you're back to work."

"I'm going to get our anesthesiologist to meet with you, and then we're planning to have you into surgery within the hour. Dean, you're welcome to wait here until he goes in."

"Thanks, doc." And as the doctor turned to leave, Dean opened the door, "Take good care of him, he's important to us."

As the door closed behind him, Jim spoke up. "Dean, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. You saved my life."

"Yeah, well … it was nothing."

"No, Dean. You really came through, as usual. No wonder your dad's so proud of you. But, Dean, I'm in good hands now, they're going to take good care of me, and there's nothing more you can do for me here. Go home, take care of Sam. I'm sure he'd feel better having you there. In any case, I'd feel better … and I know you would, too."

"Are you sure Jim? I can wait at least until you're out of surgery and settled in your room."

"No, Dean," Jim shook his head. "Though I appreciate your concern, you've spent more than enough time caring for me. I will be fine, and I would feel much better if you went home and were there for Sam."

"You trying to foist me off on my poor kid brother, I'm not sure Sam would appreciate that."

"I know he would appreciate it. Now get going Dean before I start telling you about all my aches and pains and …"

"I got it, I got it. Leaving … leaving right now." And Dean was back in the Impala and on the road before even the next minute had passed.

After driving for a couple of hours, Dean realized that even if he drove straight through right now, Sam would be in school by the time he got home. Besides, these mountain roads were no picnic even in full daylight. When it was pitch black, they could be downright dangerous. Frustrated, he pulled over. Checking his cell phone once again, and getting the same exasperating response, Dean crawled in the back seat and punched his sweater into a pillow then set the alarm on his watch for 3 hours, and fell into a restless sleep.

One hour later, Dean realized the impossibility of sleeping any longer and decided that until he talked to his little brother, he wasn't going to get any peaceful sleep. Once again the Impala's tires flung stones a great distance as it peeled out onto the tricky mountain road. After all, there was safe, and there was Winchester 'safe', and Dean needed to get home.

The sight of a pay phone was the first time he hit the brakes. It was at a worn down gas station on the outskirts of a town that had seen better days about 50 years ago. The lights in the office were out, but there was one lighted 'phone' sign by the side of the road. Checking his cell reception again, Dean confirmed that his phone was still out of range. He grabbed his change and ran for the pay phone.

As soon as he grabbed the handset, he saw the frayed cord leading to the phone. Holding it to his ear he prayed for a dial tone. Nothing, nada. Cursing, he put money in the box anyway. He knew he was screwed. Still nothing. "DAMN IT, how the hell can a person make a call around here?"

Checking his watch, Dean knew that Sam had to leave for school in the next twenty minutes, and he was required to turn off his phone in school. Racing back to the car, Dean jerked open the door, jumped in and threw the car in gear. He dug grooves in the gravel as he sped off. If he could get within cell tower range in the next 20 min., he may yet be able to hear Sammy's voice, and quell the whirlpool that was now raging in his stomach.

* * *

The next time Sam woke up, he was jolted awake as he unconsciously turned in his bed and jarred his swollen leg, which made him flinch, which also reawakened the pain in his ribs. Not to be left out, his head was now pounding a rhythm that matched his elevated heart beat. No, not a good way to wake up at all. A pitiful groan escaped his mouth before he realized he was not alone in his room.

In fact, there were several people there with him. It was daylight again, and as he tried to focus on the faces around him, he found he was more and more scared not to see Dean. It was okay, he kept telling himself, he could deal. He was 14, after all. He was old enough to hunt now, he was old enough to deal with this. He'd seen how Dean managed to cope with injuries and scary situations, and he knew it was his turn to step up and just deal, at least until Dean could help Pastor Jim and come back. Hopefully, he had to admit, soon.

"I see you're joining us again, Sam." Dr. Phillips stepped forward and pulled a rolling stool up to his bed. "I have some good news for you."

Sam looked up at him hopefully. Maybe he'd spoken with his dad or Dean and they'd be here soon.

Dr. Phillips felt bad at the blatant hope on the young man's face. "No, son, I'm sorry, we still haven't been able to track down your family yet. But Sam," he reached out and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. This didn't look like good news to Sam. "We're going to start treatment for you now. You don't have to go through this anymore." He hoped to see some positive reaction from the young man, but all he saw was even greater concern.

"Your situation is continuing to get worse, and if we don't act now, you could lose full use of your leg or there could be internal bleeding as we've discussed." He stopped to see if Sam was absorbing this. He appeared to be very uncomfortable, more so than the doctor thought _he_ could stand in similar circumstances, but Sam was paying close attention

"We're going to give you a sedative soon, and then we'll fully sedate you and get you into surgery to set the breaks in your ankle and leg, and make sure your ribs are lined up. We are going to make a small incision in your stomach to make sure we're not missing any bleeders. Then we'll get you all patched up and on your way to recovery." No response. "Sound good?" he asked hopefully.

"So," Sam looked around confused. "You got hold of Dad? Dean?"

"Well," the doctor looked like he was hiding something, and was about to divulge the 'but'. "The only way we could treat you was to have you declared a ward of the state, and the court has given their permission for us to treat you."

Sam was confused. A ward of the state? That so didn't sound good. "What does that mean, exactly?" Everyone could hear the monitor as Sam's heartbeat began to speed up.

"It just means we can take care of you now." Dr. Phillips showed his best optimistic smile.

"No, no it doesn't. It means you're trying to take me away from my dad …from Dean." He could feel himself hyperventilating, but couldn't do anything to prevent the gray that was creeping in at the sides of his vision.

"Calm down, Sam." The doctor brushed Sam's bangs out of his face. "You have to relax or I'll need to sedate you, now, and then we can't finish our conversation."

"NO!" Sam hissed, "You can't do this." _This - this_ was his worst nightmare – the worst evil out there couldn't possibly match the terror and helplessness Sam felt at this news. "No! I won't let you. I … refuse treatment. LET. ME. OUT." Sam pushed his blanket off and tried to sit up, but the physician wouldn't allow it and gently held his shoulder in place.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but you are too young to make that decision. You're not old enough to sign yourself out." He looked at the terrified boy in the bed. Throughout all of what he had to endure, this seemed to hurt him the most. "Sam, we're only doing this for your own benefit. This is Mrs. Hill," he introduced a rather stiff looking lady in black pants and sweater. "She is from Child Services and will be your advocate." He leaned in to the young man. "You really can't lay here in this condition anymore. I can't take it and you certainly can't either." He thought how best to present this to the angry face in front of him. "I'm sure your dad wouldn't want you to continue to suffer."

"You … don't … care … what … my … dad … wants." Sam's breathing was getting worse. He started to shudder and flinched. "Wait .. till …

Dr. Phillips subtly gestured to the nurse and she injected the sedative into Sam's IV.

Sam jerked his hand away, but the doctor grabbed his arm before he could yank the needle out. Intense green eyes glared up with venom at the physician. "Just … wait … till .. Dean gets … here."

* * *

By the time Dean's cell finally got reception, there was no answer at home, and Dean realized that Sam would have already left for school. He couldn't believe that after all that, he'd missed him. Angrily, he slammed the phone shut and threw it on the seat next to him, where it promptly slid off and rolled under the seat.

Dean considered his location, the roads he'd have to take, and the time left till school got out. He pushed his Impala to a few more miles over his current speed. Dean calculated that, with no more stops and some luck, he'd get to the school with barely ten minutes left to spare before it let out. He couldn't wait to see Sammy's face again and get his stomach back on track. Maybe he'd spring for dinner tonight, wherever his little brother wanted to go. Dean thought about all the times he'd been left alone watching Sammy when he was little. He'd never really been alone. Even though he was the responsible one, he'd always had his brother's company with him. He felt really bad for having to leave him, but was glad he'd been able to help Pastor Jim when he'd really needed it.

He finally rolled up to the side of the school about three minutes after school got out. He saw the kids lining up for the buses, and other kids filing out into the parking lot. He hoped he hadn't missed Sammy yet. He wasn't even sure how he'd arranged to get home if Dean hadn't made it back today. Dean finally allowed himself to start to relax. This felt good. Even though he'd been up who knew how many hours now, he was finally at the place where he could relax. All he needed now was to see his little brother coming across the parking lot toward him. He waited about two more minutes and then he started to get that feeling in his stomach again. That's when he remembered his cell phone. He could call Sam now and find out were he was, make sure he knew he was here waiting for him.

Dean stretched over and tried to feel around for his cell under Sam's seat. He could just touch it, but couldn't get a grip on it. He leaned over the back of the seat to see if he could get a better hold on it. Finally, giving up, he opened the door and got out. He stretched his legs and took a good long look around the parking lot. Still no sign of Sam. Damn, where was that boy.

He strolled around to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. Sticking his hand under the seat he waggled his hand around until he was finally able to grab the elusive phone. He was so intent on grabbing the cell so he could finally track down his baby brother, that he didn't even hear Mike hobble up to the vehicle.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Mike's voice was furious.

Dean whipped around with one hand forming a fist until he realized who was speaking to him. "It's Mike, right?" Dean was confused, wasn't this Sam's friend? What was up with the crappy greeting.

"It's about time you showed up!" the boy in front of him was royally pissed. "But why even bother. Sam always told us what a great big brother you were, but I'm telling you man, if _anyone_ had done something to my sister like you and your dad did to Sam, I'd have killed them. Flat out. I mean it."

"What the freakin' hell are you talking about?" Dean's patience was running thin and what was this kid saying about Sammy?

"It's too late now, you know. You might as well go back to wherever you were. Maybe now Sam can have someone who's willing to be there for him when he needs it," the muscular boy spat out.

"Look, jerk. I don't know what the hell you're going on about, but you better explain and fast or I'm likely to ignore that cast on your foot and take you down hard." Dean was fast losing patience with this guy and his fist wanted to get some answers.

Mike wasn't ready to start explaining anything to him yet. He could see that Dean was upset, but he was going to let him wait – let him feel a tiny fraction of what Sam had been feeling for the past three days.

Dean, however, was done waiting. He stepped right up in the boy's face and made use of his most menacing voice. "I am not fooling around here. Do you hear me. If this has ANYTHING to do with Sam and where he is right now, you better start talking immediately or you're not going to be walking around on your other leg for a long time to come."

Mike refused to be intimidated. He was unsettled by Dean's intimidation, but after what Sam had said about what a great brother Dean was… well, Mike's anger at his absence had been simmering over the past three days, and he wasn't about to give in yet. "I don't give a damn what you want. What about what your brother wants? Laying in the hospital for days – nobody giving a damn about him. What the hell kind of big brother does that make you."

"What?" Dean took a step back and bumped up against the car feeling the air drop out of his lungs. "What are you saying … did … I need to know … did something happen to Sammy while I was gone."

Mike looked at the devastated visage in front of him. Maybe this guy really did care – and it wasn't necessarily his fault that his dad had abandoned Sam. Dean, however, _was_ responsible for watching his brother. "You were supposed to be there for him, man. If you'd seen the way he looked while he was waiting for them to treat him …" Mike shook his head. He looked back up at Dean's shocked expression. He tried to hold onto his anger, but he couldn't see the man in front of him, and still think of him as someone who didn't care.

"Please," Dean begged, "please just tell me what happened. Where is he?"

"Drunk driver hit us. He's at the hospital ... or he was last time I saw him."

"A drunk driver? Sammy was in a crash?! Oh, God." Dean turned white as he leaned against the car. "Is ... is he okay?"

Mike could see panic setting in, but was still inclined to be brutally honest. "I don't know. He was in really bad shape … he definitely got the worst of it in the crash."

"What? But he's… Sammy's still alive?"

"Yes, Dean. He's alive."

"And he's in the hospital?" Dean had to pull himself together if he was going to get to Sam. "Mike, tell me how to get there now! -- No, get in. You can show me the fastest way there."

Mike quickly decided that Sam would still want his brother there for him, and solely for Sam's sake, he nodded.

"Well, get moving – tell me everything that happened on the way!" Dean raced around to the drivers seat and barely had the patience for Mike to settle in and close the door before the Impala was flying out of the parking lot.

* * *

_I almost broke this up into two chapters, but couldn't do it until Dean got back into town. __Thanks again for all the reviews. It's been great reading your comments, and it helps me to see which parts you liked best. Thanks for taking the time to read and review._


	6. Chapter 6

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. When John's on a job, and an 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, Sam is left home on his own. When a drunk driver brings him to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Reunion**

_Mike quickly decided that Sam would still want his brother there for him, and solely for him he nodded._

"_Well, get moving – tell me on the way!" Dean raced around to the drivers seat and barely had the patience for Mike to settle in and close the door before the Impala was flying out of the parking lot._

"A freaking drunk driver?" Dean couldn't believe that after all the shit they faced, it was a drunk driver that had hurt Sammy. "When did it happen?"

"The night of the basketball game. We were heading home and the damn SUV came right over into our lane."

Dean was stunned. It must have happened within hours after he had first left.

"I thought we were all dead, but when I swerved to try to get around him … well, Sam's door got the worst of it. By the time we all stopped sliding, he was trapped with his leg pinned under the front seat, and the seat was in his chest."

Dean so didn't want to hear that. "He's going to be okay though, right? Is he conscious?" It came out as a plea.

"Oh, he was conscious while they were trying to pry his leg from the car."

"Oh, God." Dean looked like he might throw up. "So … but … they got him out and fixed him up at the hospital, right. Then what did they say? How's he doing now?"

The traffic light turned as he got to the intersection. Dean was all set to go through when he saw traffic coming the other way. He slammed on the brakes, wiped the sweat off his hands, and looked to Mike for his answer.

"Dean, stop. Pull over for two minutes, you need to hear this before you see him."

That so did not sound good. "Damn it, Mike, what aren't you saying … what's wrong with him?" Dean's chest was starting to hurt. He finally took a breath and pulled the car into the closest parking lot. Mike had his full attention.

"They couldn't treat him that night, … "

"What are you talking about, if he was hurt and they got him to a hospital …"

"No, Dean, they couldn't treat him without your dad's permission. They tried to reach your dad - we tried to reach your dad, we even drove out to your place, but there was no one there. Later when I got your number, we tried to call you, we left at least ten messages. Sam said there was nobody else to call."

Dean threw his head back against the window. His cell, he'd dropped the damn cell on the floor before he'd checked for messages. "I was out of range …" His voice broke. "What do you mean they – they wouldn't treat him."

"Dean, the hospital won't treat a 14 year old without first getting permission from his folks!"

The realization flooded Dean as soon as Mike said it. Every single time one of them had been seriously injured, their dad had been there. Of course they avoided hospitals and doctors as much as possible to avoid any unwanted questions or visits from Child Services, but any time they'd had to be seen in a hospital by a doctor, Dad had been there. And Dean had done his fair share of first aid on Sammy whenever he fell or twisted an ankle. Bobby and Pastor Jim had taken care of other, deeper injuries to Dean and John as well. He slammed his fist into the dash. "Damn it to hell!" What had he been thinking. He was supposed to watch out for Sammy.

"Dean, he laid there with only ice, ace bandages, and Tylenol for two whole days before his doctor…" Mike hesitated.

"What?! – Are you freakin' kidding me?!"

"Before," he wasn't sure Dean could take this news right now, but he had to know, "… before his doctor petitioned the court to have your dad's parental rights revoked." He looked directly in Dean's eyes, "Sam is now in the custody of Child Services, and they gave his doctor permission to take him into surgery this morning."

That was it, Dean couldn't hear any more. He pulled the handle and barely got his head out the door before he emptied the contents of his stomach. Sammy, his baby brother, had been in intolerable pain for over two whole days - and he was virtually abandoned by his family when he needed them the most. Warring with these wretched thoughts was the realization that their family's worst nightmare had come to pass. Sam had been taken away from them. Taken away from Dean. No! … not while he could do anything about it.

Dean slammed the door shut, threw the car into gear and pealed out of the parking lot heading for Sammy, _his_ little brother. No one took Sammy away from him – no one!

Mike recognized the determination in Dean's face and could guess where this was heading. As soon as Dean stormed onto Sam's floor demanding to see his brother, he was going to have a fight with security. He knew that Child Services had put a stop to all non-approved visitors – and Dean and his dad certainly headed that list. Dean sure didn't look like he had the patience to argue with a case worker right now – let alone a potential foster family.

"Dean." Mike didn't get any response, so he put his hand on the man's shoulder and could feel the tension radiating through his muscles. "Dean! They won't let you in to see him now."

"Yes -- they will," there was steely determination in his voice.

"Security will throw you out before you even get to see Sam if you go in announcing that you're his brother right now." The squealing of tires as Dean took a corner at high speed was his only response, but he could see Dean was considering it.

"Well, genius, what do you suggest?"

"You need to walk in with me," he stressed the word 'walk', ".. and pretend you're just a friend of Sam's checking up on him. They may still try to keep us out, but they let me in a couple of times when I stopped by."

Dean didn't like this at all, but he could see the plan had its merits – he'd get to see Sammy a lot faster than trying to buck the system straight off.

"And you better let me go in first so I can get Sam up to speed otherwise if he's awake he's likely to blow your story as soon as he sees you walk through the door. And we don't know who might be in the room with him."

"This is just so freaking absurd! I just want to go in and see my baby brother – I've been taking care of him his whole life. I'm not about to stop now. I know I screwed up, bad, by not being there for him, but … now … I need to make this right."

"I believe you, Dean. Sam needs you – especially now, but you're going to have to stay under the radar until your dad shows up, or they won't let you anywhere near him."

Dean still wanted to go storming into Sammy's room and take down anyone who stood in his way, but he realized that though that would accomplish his immediate needs, it would make things so much harder in the long run. And in this case, he was glad that Sam had made a friend of this boy, who also understood the meaning of taking care of family. "Yeah, okay – but my name is Steve Curtis – Sammy'll recognize it. And thanks, Mike. I appreciate everything you've done for him. I'm glad you were here for him … even if we weren't."

Dean's mouth tightened in remorse as he squealed into the hospital lot. With a sharp turn into the closest spot, he stopped the car and then jumped out to run around to help Mike out of the car. Then he stretched his patience to the breaking point by slowly followed Mike as he limped into the building – the building that held one of the most – if not the most - important person in his life, even if he hadn't been able to show him that recently. Well, that was about to change.

As they got off the elevator on the 3rd floor, and passed the nurse's station, Mike turned to Dean and spoke louder, "Steve, can you get grab me a Coke too, the machines are just over there at the top of the stairwell. I'll let Sam know you're coming."

Mike entered Sam's room. He knew that Sam had had major surgery earlier that day, and he wasn't surprised to see him sound asleep. He hated to wake him after seeing him in so much pain before, it was good to see that the tension in his face had relaxed a little. But he had to get him up to speed and fast before someone else came in the room.

"Sam," he whispered. "Sam!" There was no response and noticing the morphine drip situated next to the bed, Mike wondered if he would be able to wake up, and if so, how much he would understand. Gritting his teeth, he touched Sam's arm, "Hey, kid, wake up – you really need to wake up now."

"G'way Dean." Sam groaned.

"Yeah, well, not this time. And I'm not Dean, Sam, it's Mike – you need to wake up for a minute. Really, Sam – wake up."

Weary eyes blinked a few times and then looked up at him. Sam appeared to be attempting to focus. His pupils showed that there were definitely drugs at work here. "Mike – whatcha doing here?"

"Sam, listen to me carefully. Can you do that?" Something in his urgent words caught Sam's attention.

He tried to sit up, but flinched and immediately stopped moving. Apparently the drugs still weren't strong enough.

"Sam," Mike checked behind him to make sure the door was still closed. "Dean's here."

"What?" Sam forgot all about lying still and jerked up. The following second he was flat on the bed again with sweat breaking out on his face and looking a lot paler. "Where … where is he. Dean!"

"Shhhh. We can't let the hospital staff know he's here or they won't let him in to see you."

"But," the confusion was evident on Sam's face. He needed to see Dean. Dean was here, what was the problem.

"Remember, Sam, you're 'protected' by Child Services now – and they think he's part of the reason you're in this place." Sam's heartbeat started to increase and Mike heard the door opening. Bending down to Sam's ear he whispered frantically, "Call him Steve – Steve Curtis. He's a friend of yours from high school. Don't forget!"

As Mike turned, he saw Dean's devastated face as he registered Sam's condition. In two steps, Dean was across the room and at Sam's side. Mike quickly went over to the door and closed it behind him.

"Dean! You're here! Man, it's so good to see you." Sam reached his hand out to Dean and he grasped it.

"You too, kiddo." Dean almost chocked up with emotion. Then, leaning down next to Sam's bed he pulled him into a gentle hug. "Sam … Sammy, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

As Dean released his brother, he could see the moisture in Sam's eyes. "Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …"

"Sam, I'm the one that's sorry. I was the one who was gone. I wasn't here when you needed me. You -- you didn't do_ anything_ wrong."

"I tried to go home, I tried to get away from them …"

"What are you talking about?"

"I told the paramedics I was okay, but they wouldn't listen to me."

"Gee, Sherlock, I wonder why. Of course they had to bring you here – you needed to be treated by a doctor."

"Dean, you don't understand. I … I couldn't leave… so the doctor .. It's all my fault!" Sam was struggling to reveal the disastrous news.

"Sammy, shut up -- and listen at me." He waited. "No one is going to take you away from me. Mike told me what happened – all of it. No way is any of this your fault, if anyone's it's mine for leaving you here."

"Dean, no – you couldn't have stopped the crash from happening. It was a damn drunk driver."

Dean nodded and waited until Sam was looking right at him. "See what I mean – not - your - fault! Get it?" He waited till Sam gave a hesitant nod. "Now, how do you feel? Are you hurting anywhere in particular?"

"Me, …I'm fine," Sam was so glad to have Dean there with him. He hadn't felt this good for a very long time. Then, reality started to seep in. "But, you don't understand," he grabbed Dean's arm, "you gotta get me out of here - now!"

Just then all three heard voices outside the room, someone was coming. Dean squeezed Sam's hand, "Don't forget, the name's Steve – I'm _pretending_ not to be your brother for a very short time." He squeezed his hand again and then placed it gently on the bed. Dean took a quick step away from the bed as the door opened.

A lady walked in wearing a tailored dark blue suit and carrying a briefcase. She looked surprised to see anyone in the room with Sam. "And who are you boys?"

"We're friends of Sam's," Mike answered. "They said we could visit with Sam for a while.

"Who said you could be here?" she inquired as she set her briefcase down on the corner chair.

"Dr. Phillips let me come in yesterday," Mike answered. "He thought it we be good if we could cheer Sam here up a bit."

"Hmmm. Did you sign in with the nurse's station."

Dean tried his best to look inconspicuous, "No ma'am, we didn't realize we needed to."

"Fine, next time you come you better sign in. Now, if you would please leave, Mr. Winchester and I have some things to discuss."

"And you are?" Dean pressed cautiously.

"Mrs. Janet Hill, Child Protective Services." She walked over and seized the chair next to Sam as if she belonged there – _as if_. "It's okay, Sam knows we have to go over a few things. So, if you wouldn't mind waiting out in the hall, or coming back tomorrow." She gestured impatiently toward the door.

Sam shifted forward uncomfortably in his bed and glared at the lady, "Yes, we've spoken, but she doesn't give a damn what I have to say."

"Now, Mr. Winchester, we don't expect you to understand, but …"

"No! I understand all right. You're the one who doesn't understand. My family loves me and they take care of me. They trust me – and I trust them."

'Atta boy', thought Dean, 'let her know how it is.'

"Now, Sam..."

"It's Mr. Winchester, isn't it?" Dean asked innocently, for which he received an aggravated glare in return.

"Mister Winchester," she clearly enunciated, "Children in these situations frequently …"

Dean stepped forward, "Hey lady -- Mr. Winchester is almost 15 years old, I don't think he likes to be called a child." For which he received a heartfelt acknowledgement from his younger brother. Sam was so relieved to have Dean here, it gave him strength to have him by his side again.

"And you are…" she responded in kind.

"The name's Steve Curtis, I'm Sam's friend."

"Well, Mr. Curtis, I think it's time both of you left. This is a private conversation."

"Not gonna happen." Dean calmly responded.

"Steve," Sam said in a quite tone that Dean knew very well to mean, 'shut up'. Shifting uncomfortably in bed once again, Sam addressed his 'advocate'. "Mrs. Hill, as you've carefully pointed out, I am a minor - and that means I have few, if any, rights around here, but you are not going to kick my friends out of the room. That will be the end of any conversation I have with you now or ever in the future." Dean noticed Sam was starting to sweat.

"Easy, Sam." Dean rested his hand on his brother's shoulder, "I don't plan on going anywhere. And can't you see how you're upsetting him," he growled at the lady. "He's just had major surgery today and he needs rest. If you don't leave right now, I'll escort you out myself."

Sam was grateful for Dean's natural ability for intimidation. Even though he'd been on the other side from time to time, it was never with anywhere near the intensity that he reserved for anyone those who would threaten Sam's wellbeing.

"Well, I can see I'm not getting anywhere here right now." She stood up and grabbed her briefcase, "Mr. Winchester, perhaps we can continue this discussion at a later time, when the room isn't so crowded. But, we are going to need to talk, and soon." Her raised eyebrows held their own level of intimidation for Sam.

"Right, well off you go." And Dean gestured to the door in the same manner that she had dismissed him earlier. Soon the click of heels down the hall was all that was left of Sam's advocate.

"Dean, did I tell you, ... I've really missed you." Sam sighed as he tried to find a comfortable spot again. He hissed as he tried to reposition himself again.

Dean recognized the machine next to his brother's bed and leaned over to check the read-outs. Then looking back at Sam as he tried once again to find a tolerable position, Dean reached over and pushed the self-administer button on the morphine drip. Obviously his brother hadn't done that in a while because the machine clicked and hissed and did its job immediately. "Dean, I don't need that stuff."

"Trust me little man, with the way you look right now, some of dad's more unusual acquaintances have looked healthier. Don't worry, they'll take you off it soon. You need to use it now from time to time so that you don't limit your movement and get too stiff. And right now, you need some uninterrupted sleep."

"But Dean, they may not let ya' come back," Sam's speech was getting slurred. He could feel the relief in his overly taxed nerves, as well as the pull of sleep.

Dean brushed his unruly bangs out of his face. "Don't worry kiddo, I'll be here when you wake up. Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere … I promise, Sammy – I'll watch your back." And with those overwhelmingly reassuring words, Sam fell into his first deep sleep in days.

* * *

_Okay, I'm glad to say they're finally back together again. But there's still a lot left to the story if you want to read more. Thanks so much for the reviews, they are very encouraging, and I sincerely appreciate your comments._


	7. Chapter 7

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. When John's on a job, and an 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, Sam is left home on his own. When a drunk driver brings him to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Reality Check**

**by Visionairy**

_Dean brushed his unruly bangs out of his face. "Don't worry kiddo, I'll be here when you wake up. Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere … I promise, Sammy – I'll watch your back." And with those overwhelmingly reassuring words, Sam fell into his first deep sleep in days._

A few hours later, Dean was getting restless. He hated himself for it, but it was from years of keeping on the move. A plan to get Sam out of here as soon as possible was all he could think of, yet no good plan that would be conducive to Sam's overall health had yet come to light. Maybe once he had some rest, he'd be more successful. Clearly, however, that wasn't going to happen for a while. He turned to Mike again, "You really should go home. You need to take it easy too, it doesn't look like you got out of this unscathed."

"Yeah, well, it's my poor Mustang I'm worried about. The way she looks now, I could cry. You remember her Dean, she was a thing of beauty."

"Remember her, she's the reason I let Sam ride with you in the first place. I figured anyone who respected and took that good care of a classic ride, wouldn't let …" The irony of the situation hit them both at the same time and they shared an easy laugh. "Hey, you did the best job you could under the circumstances."

Mike looked sincerely back at Sam's older brother, "So did you, Dean. You did the best you could under the circumstance." Dean refused to acknowledge him, and Mike could see the bitter shake of his head. "Don't worry, he'll be fine. He's tough."

Dean cleared his throat, "Damn straight."

Both boys flinched when they heard a new voice at the door.

"Well, Sam," he said to his sleeping patient, "I see you have some visitors?" Dr. Phillips looked at the boys. He recognized Mike from before, but the disheveled older boy sitting at the bed was new. He didn't quite have the look of a high school student. He walked over toward the bed, "I hear there was a complaint that you didn't register at the nurse's station."

Dean stood up with an engaging smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry doc – we didn't know the protocol."

"So Mike, who's your friend?"

"My name's Steve Curtis," Dean walked over to shake his hand. "I'm a friend of Sam's."

"Really," shaking Dean's hand he scrutinized the young man. "I'm Dr. Phillips, Sam's doctor. And where do you know him from?" He noticed that Sam was waking up and as Steve stepped back toward his bed, Sam was tracking his every movement.

"I'm a neighbor," Dean assured, "we got to know each other when he first moved in."

Dr. Phillips gave him an assessing gaze, and then turned back to his patient, "That's nice that you have such good friends, Sam."

Sam glanced back over at Dr. Phillips, "Uh, yeah. Right." He sounded a little off, but the drugs were probably playing a hand in that. He saw from the dispenser that Sam had finally taken advantage of some pain relief – but that had been about five hours ago.

"I thought I'd find you asleep after all you've been through," he turned to look at his friends, "I don't know if you were aware, Steve, of what a brave young man you have for a friend. Most kids, adults even, wouldn't have been able to handle what he's been through over the past three days."

Dean tried very hard not to take the bait, this man appeared suspicious, but he still couldn't prevent an unconscious clenching of his jaw and backbone. Forcing himself to relax his stance, Dean attempted to project a more casual attitude, "Yeah, I heard. I guess Samm …," he cut himself off from using his favorite name for his sibling. "I guess Sam's a lot tougher than he looks."

The doctor began to examine him - blood pressure, pulse, temp … then he checked each of the incisions and gently covered them up again. Sam tried not to show any reaction to the prodding. He waited patiently, but the doctor could tell he had something on his mind. "Dr. Phillips, now that I've had the surgery, I'm feeling a whole lot better now, and I really want to know -- when can I leave?"

"Sam, why don't you ask your friends to come back later, and we can talk about this."

"No!" Sam couldn't help the panicked response, "I mean, they can stay, can't they? Or at least one of them? I'd really like to have someone here with me when we talk."

"I guess that would be fine," the doctor smiled at Sam and he threw a glance back over in Dean's direction, "It's always nice to have someone to support you when you're going through something like this." The doctor pulled up a rolling stool and gestured for the boys to take a seat.

"Well, we talked briefly right after you got out of surgery, but I know it was hard for you to pay attention then. I had to set the bones in your leg, which was difficult to say the least, from all the swelling that had occurred over the previous days. We had to put two pins in your ankle and one a little higher up in your shin." Sam dared a quick glance over at his older brother. Dean looked like he'd been struck. "Don't worry, you should regain full use of the leg, but you'll need to work hard with physical therapy to get back to the condition you were in before the crash. Our primary concern was actually in your chest. You did have three broken ribs – which apparently brings your lifetime total to five?" he said questioningly.

"I fell off my bike when I was a kid. " That was the story Dean had used once, so Sam latched onto it. He was pleased to be able to come up with a viable reason for the damage – at least better than the real story; one of his first hunts when a werewolf had unexpectedly showed up. Nope, the doctor didn't need to hear about that. Dean, however, wished he'd given a more believable delivery. Sam never did lie well.

"Hmm, yes. Well, we had to cut into your chest to line up two of your ribs, and remove a couple of bone fragments that had splintered off – which probably caused a lot of discomfort in your breathing. And, sorry to say, your chest will be sore for a while yet." Sam acknowledged the fact with a wry nod.

"And I know this sounds like a lot, but we also found a couple of small internal bleeders which we sutured. We assume that was what was causing some of the abdominal swelling and stomach pain. And, …" Dean just wished this was over. How many 'ands' could there be. He started to feel like he might pass out from the information alone.

"… finally, you did have a minor concussion, but the latest MRI shows that it's of no further concern." He paused a few seconds to make sure it was all sinking in.

"It's okay, Sam. You're doing quite well, considering, and as long as you don't get any infections, and if you limit yourself to a very gradual increase in activity, you should be up and around reasonably soon."

Sam looked like he was trying to absorb it all. It was a lot to take in. And once again, Sam's gaze drifted right back over to the older boy who was leaning next to the foot of the bed. He wasn't looking so good himself, right now.

Dr. Phillips looked back at Sam and could see the tension in his muscles and the way his teeth were ground together. He recognized the symptoms, so he adjusted the levels on the morphine dispenser and delivered a much-needed dose to the boy. When he looked up again, he thought he saw a silent communication between Sam and Steve, who rolled his eyes back at the boy, but spoke up, "So what does that mean as far as when he can go home?"

Dr. Phillips scrutinized the muscular young man, "I've talked with Sam about this already, but," he turned back to the patient in front of him, "… when he's ready to be discharged, we'll need to contact his foster family and they will pick him up. If his father were to contact us," he pointedly looked towards Dean, "…he could meet with the court to discuss visitation."

Sam looked devastated, his eyes were watering and he turned his head to the wall. "Why couldn't you just let me go home instead of doing all this?"

"Sam," Dean put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure your dad will show up soon and get this all straightened out." Dean turned to face the doctor, "He's a great guy, you know – his dad. You can tell he loves his sons. He just has to travel, sometimes, on business."

Dr. Phillips nodded noncommittally, while a muffled voice came from the pillow. "I want to go home now!"

Just as Dr. Phillips started to respond, 'Steve' turned around to face Sam. "You've been really brave so far, Sammy. You just need to hang in there a little bit longer. The doc here needs to make sure you're doing okay before you leave, and you still look pretty rough to me." Dr. Phillips was surprised at the source of the unexpected support. Dean continued, " Tell you what, if it's okay with the doc, Mike and I will flip a coin to see who stays the night. Would that be okay?"

Sam turned to the voice with an intent look of affection in his eyes. It was evident that he trusted the older boy would help him. It was good to see someone else who cared for the young Winchester. A hesitant smile spread across Sam's face for the very first time since the doctor had met him, and blinking rapidly, he whispered, "Thanks, De..eve, I'd really like that." Though it was obvious that he was trying to stay awake, the ordeal had taken a lot out of him, and with Steve's hand resting on his shoulder, young Sam Winchester relaxed back into sleep.

Dr. Phillips turned his attention to Mike, "And don't you think you should also be getting some rest young man, or I'm likely to call Dr. Thomas to come down and see how his patient's doing."

Dean had been sitting quietly watching his brother's breaths even out into a comforting rhythm, but he turned to Sam's friend, "The doc's right, Mike. You need to take care of yourself as well. Can I call you a cab? I'd give you a ride home now, but .."

"Hey, I've got it covered. My folks were already planning to pick me up in a few minutes anyway. I'll wait for them downstairs." He hobbled toward the door, "Call me if he needs anything."

"Thanks, dude. I'll let him know."

When Mike left, Dean turned toward the man who was adjusting the IV settings and resetting the morphine dispenser. He waited till he had his full attention and quietly asked, "What else happened to him. I can tell there's more than what you just mentioned. I need to know everything."

"I can't discuss this with anyone but family, and since …"

Dean interrupted and looked meaningfully into the doctor's face. "I really need to know what he's been through." For a moment they just stared at each other, both searching for answers in the other's expression.

Dr. Phillips couldn't believe he was going to have this conversation, but seeing the sheer relief in Sam's eyes as he watched 'Steve' in his room, and the ease of which he fell back asleep with his hand on his shoulder, had made the man change his mind. Reading people was something of an art, and one that the doctor had become quite good at over the years. "You don't look much alike," the doctor ventured.

Now it was Dean's turn to be uncomfortable, but he continued to look the doctor squarely in the eyes, "Hypothetically speaking," Dean put forth, "if you were able to find Sam's big brother, what would be involved in letting him take Sam home – once he's ready to leave the hospital?"

"Well, if we're speaking hypothetically, I would tell his older brother, Dean – isn't it, that he's not allowed to visit his brother in the hospital because first we need to determine how much he's been involved in the neglect of his brother, and if he was involved in any injuries his brother had sustained in the past."

"All active kids have some injuries, and I can see where you might think that, but, Sam's family – they love him. I've seen them together. His dad, his brother, they would do anything for him. Anything!"

"Then why do you suppose they weren't available when Sam was falling in and out of consciousness, scared, bleeding, and having difficulty even breathing when he was first wheeled in here?" He focused directly on the face in front of him. "The other boys had family here before Sam even _arrived _at the hospital. Do you have any idea how painful his injuries were? A broken leg, crushed ankle, broken ribs that wouldn't allow him even a normal breath." He paused for a second to let that sink in.

"And when that boy lying next to you had to cope with the reality that we weren't going to be able to help him until his family arrived, where were they then?" He could see the tension emanating from the boy sitting across from him, the tightening of his face and the rigidity of his muscles. "How about when I found him writhing in pain still after 18 hours post trauma. He tried to cover it, even tried to get us to release him, but that young man was in agony – you can imagine how much Tylenol would help with injures that severe."

Watching to see how the young man in front of him reacted to his words, the doctor could see that they were hurting him, but he had to make sure he thoroughly understood what Sam had been through. Gamely, he went on. "He would fall asleep only to awaken again anytime he started to move or took a deep breath. And then with the swelling in his ankle," Dr. Phillips sighed, "he couldn't …"

Dr. Phillips paused when he realized there were tears running down the young man's face. He saw a face that looked shocked, pale and clearly nauseous. Dean leaned his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. "I didn't know. I, … God, he's only fourteen, he's …he's just a kid. I was supposed to be watching out for him. I … I shouldn't have left him. I should have found a way…." He stayed that way for a long while before he got up and started to pace. Then he turned and advanced on the doctor. "But how could you let him go through that. You … you – were – here! You could've treated him at any time. How the frickin hell could you watch him go through that and not help him??!"

Dr. Phillips leaned forward himself and angrily faced the tirade. "How dare you tell me what I could and couldn't do for him. It is hospital policy and my hands are tied. And it's not just me. Several people make up a surgical team, and they are all required to follow the rules. The procedures are there for a reason. I could not treat that boy until I had parental permission! I did everything I could within, and bordering beyond, the actions that we are allowed to use by law and the hospital administration. If we ignored them, we might as well shut this facility down today, before the lawyers even got to us. And then where would your brother be? Would he have survived the trip to the hospital in the next county?"

Dean swiped his hand through his hair. "I don't know, doc. I'm sorry. It just keeps going through my head – and now knowing some of what the hell he went through for so long … I… ," Dean's voice broke. "I'd have done anything for it to have been me instead of him. I just can't stand to see Sammy hurting. He's … ," Dean's voice dropped. "He's my brother." It was cathartic to finally say it, to let the doc know how important this patient was to him.

"Yes, that seems clear enough." Dr. Phillips sighed. They sat in silence for a time, both watching the rise and fall of Sam's chest. "By the way, should I continue to call you Steve, or is there another name you usually go by?"

Dean put out his hand to shake the doctor's, "Dean. My name is Dean Winchester."

* * *

_Your comments are always appreciated!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, but when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Forgiven**

**by Visionairy**

_He's … ," Dean's voice dropped. "He's my brother." It was cathartic to finally say it, to let the doc know how important this patient was to him. He looked back up into the doctor's eyes, "And he's also my responsibility."_

"_Yes, that seems clear enough." Dr. Phillips sighed. They sat in silence for a time, both watching the rise and fall of Sam's chest. "By the way, should I continue to call you Steve, or is there another name you usually go by?"_

_Dean put out his hand to shake the doctor's, "Dean. My name is Dean Winchester."_

"Okay, then, Dean – do you know where your dad is now? We still need to get hold of him as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know the general area, but not a specific location. He's on business, and won't be available for another week or two."

"We've placed several calls to him over the last few days. I've left messages to call, told him how important it was."

"Yeah, about that. Seriously, he's in an area that doesn't get cell coverage. He knew that, so he left me in charge of Sam." Dean's head dropped and he slumped heavily back into the chair. "Some freaking help I was!" He slammed his fist onto his knee and reveled in the pain, but Sam groaned as he reacted to the noise in the room.

"Keep your voice down, Sam needs as much sleep as he can get right now. Beat up on yourself somewhere else."

Dean leaned over to Sam again, forced himself to settle down, and rubbed his hand on Sammy's shoulder. Quietly, he continued, "You don't understand, doc. Dad raised us on his own after our mom died. But I take care of Sammy. He told me to watch out for him while he was gone. That's what I do, I watch out for Sammy, but this time, I screwed up royally and I'll never forgive myself."

"You're not his father, Dean." If he heard the forgiveness in his voice, Dean didn't acknowledge it.

"No, but I am responsible for him when Dad is gone. And even when he's home, -- I'm his big brother, I need to look out for him."

"So what happened this week?"

"I got a call telling me that Pastor Jim, someone we've known all our lives, … he's the closest thing we have to family … there was a message that he was missing and possibly hurt. I had to leave to help him. If I hadn't, he would have died."

"How did that go?"

"He's good now," Dean smiled for a fraction of second, "I left as soon as he was in good hands. I had to get home to Sammy. I tried a hundred times to reach him, but couldn't get cell coverage where I was, and there aren't any damn pay phones in operation anymore. I came here as soon as Mike saw me waiting for Sammy at the school. God, I can't tell you how much I wish it'd been sooner."

"So do I, Dean. So do I." The doctor shifted to stand up. "It's getting late, you might want to go home."

"No doc, I need to be here with him now, in case he wakes up or needs anything." Dean stood without moving his hand from Sammy's shoulder, and reached out and grasped the doctor's hand. "Thank you so much for taking care of Sammy for me. I can't tell you how important he is to us. He's … he's our family. He's my brother."

"I can see that Dean. Just try to keep a low profile, and get some rest yourself. You look terrible."

"Sure can't say I feel any better," Dean acknowledged. Dr. Phillips figured that that might improve once the boy in the bed started to improve.

"Well, get some rest, and then when Mike comes back tomorrow, stop in to see me. I'll tell you what else you need to know."

Dean looked up alarmed, "Doc?"

"Not now, it can keep. I'll know more by tomorrow, anyway." He turned to leave.

"Thanks, doc – for everything."

"Get some rest Dean. You can use that chair," he pointed to a upholstered chair in the corner, "It reclines." And with that, he disappeared out the door.

* * *

Dean woke up to a crick in his neck and an overly stiff back, but feeling a lot better now that he'd finally slept. Sure, he'd woken up each time a nurse came in to check on his baby bro, but each time he woke up to see Sam sleeping peacefully next to him, it eased his anxiety considerably. Of course, the two times Sam had woken him up with a painful groan, Dean had a harder time going back to sleep. Once he'd been able to adjust his pillow and talk Sammy back to sleep, the second time took much longer, and eventually required another push of the morphine dispenser before Sam was able to relax enough to catch more z's.

The early shift nurse had said that the morphine drip would be removed as soon as Sam started eating more food, and then he'd be able to take pills instead. Dean knew from the last time how much Sammy hated the fuzzy side effects of the narcotics even when he clearly needed them. His mission today would be to get more food in him, and considering the motivation, he figured he'd have a willing partner.

"Good morning boys," a cheerful voice entered the room. Breakfast was early, but Dean was pleased to see that his pleasantries toward the hospital staff had resulted in a second tray for the room.

"Ah, let me help you with those," Dean jumped up to grab the trays. "Thank you."

As the cheerful tech left the room, Dean debated letting Sammy continue to sleep. He needed his rest, but he had been sleeping soundly for the past 4 hours and the eggs and toast would very quickly become cold and unappetizing.

Smiling, Dean reached over and grabbed the extra pillow that had fallen off the bed during the night. Following an old tradition, Dean smacked his brother, much more gently than usual, in the side of his face with the pillow. He felt just a tidbit of remorse when Sam flailed awake. "Gahh!"

"Oh, take it easy dude, it's time to wakey, wakey." Dean waved a piece of warm toast back and forth under his brother's nose. "Warm buttered toast, and fresh orange juice, scrambled eggs. I got up early and cooked."

"Jerk," Sam snatched the toast out of Dean's hand as it flew by again.

"Bitch, … that was my piece."

Sam's gloating smile was brilliant; Dean didn't think he'd seen anything as wonderful in a long time. But Sam still hesitated when it came to actually taking a bite.

"Come on, time's a wasting. Eat up," Dean encouraged.

"Not that hungry it seems." Sam looked rather uncomfortably at the toast.

"Yeah, sometimes it takes a while for the appetite to come back. Here, try some nice fresh orange juice cup. That'll get your stomach started." Dean punched the straw through the OJ carton and put it on the tray in front of Sam.

"Help me up here, okay," Sam obviously wanted to sit up to drink.

"You sure you're up for that?"

"Dean, if not, I'll end up with a lap full of OJ, and though I'm sure you'd enjoy that to no end, I'd prefer not to have a sponge bath."

"Now there's a vision I could do without. But honestly, dude, d'ya think _I_ could arrange for one around here."

"Disgusting, Dean…ahnn." Sam grunted as the head of the bed began to rise.

"You okay? Want me to stop?"

"Dean," Sam grimaced, "now who's the princess. Just get it over with, I'll deal." Dean flinched – Sam had been 'dealing' with too much lately. He stopped moving the bed and instead gently eased the additional pillow behind Sam's shoulders and carefully shifted him forward to a more comfortable position.

"We'll take it a little slower for a bit. Can you get a drink now?"

"Yeah, thanks Dean." Sam was pleased that this position wasn't causing any additional pain. "That's .. easier."

"Well, eat up then. We're wasting daylight."

"Right, and with me stuck to all this," he gestured to his IV's and leg traction, "…that makes sense, how?" He struggled to drink a few sips, and surprisingly as that settled, he took a bite or two of the toast he'd snagged. Dean smiled when he saw Sam eyeing the eggs.

"It'll get better Sammy. I'm here now, and you're going to be fine."

"I know," Sam agreed over a mouthful of egg. After a few more bites, he put his fork down and looked at Dean.

"What, dude? Quit staring at me, spit it out."

"I'm scared, man. What are they going to do to our family?" Suddenly his voice was harsh, "I won't go with anyone else. I won't!"

Dean could see that this was just going to ruin Sam's burgeoning appetite. "Leave that up to me, Sammy. I'll take care of it. You trust me right?"

"Yeah," Sam looked intently at Dean. "You know I do."

Dean smiled, "Well, kiddo, I'll so some checking around today when Mike gets here. But don't worry, I'll take care of things." And when he could still see the worry in his brother's eyes, he swore, "Listen, Sam, you know I'd never let someone else take you away from us. And even if they tried, I swear to you they couldn't get far away enough away, or put up enough stupid laws that would stop me from getting you back – no matter what. You got that into your thick head little brother?"

Dean could see the relief start to break through on Sammy's face. "Yeah. I got that, Dean. … and thanks." And though those simple words didn't begin to cover the relief Dean's words provided, Sam knew he would understand.

"Yeah, well, than give me the rest of your toast."

"Nope, not gonna happen." Sam held tightly to the remaining crust.

"Dude, a little appreciation here."

Sam chucked a piece of egg at Dean's face and, strangely enough, it felt good.

* * *

Both boys ended up sleeping away a greater portion of the day into mid afternoon. Dean was glad to see Sam sleeping, but couldn't believe how many times he caught himself sleeping when the nurses and techs entered the room. He was getting to know each of them by name. Overall, they were a great group of people who were all focusing on the same goal as Dean – seeing his brother get strong again.

A few were more than happy to discuss what a miserable family the poor boy had, but anytime Sam was awake, they were professional enough to not bring it up. It was all Dean could do not to punch them when they made their ludicrous comments, but remembering what Dr. Phillips had said about the time Dean was gone, he had to cut them some slack. After all, they were just defending a boy who, for all they believed, had been cruelly abandoned by his family at his time of need. At times, Dean wasn't so sure he didn't agree with them.

Startled awake again, Dean immediately looked around to see what had caused it. The vulture lady from DFCS was standing by the door glaring at Dean. "I see you don't like to spend much time at home."

"Nope, kinda like it here," he growled. And hearing some movement behind him, he realized that Sammy was awake as well.

"Well, you won't need to spend so much time here soon. I understand Mr. Winchester is doing better."

"Yup, I'm sure you've stayed up nights worrying about him," Dean countered.

"I am concerned for this young man's well-being."

"Right," Dean heard a sarcastic grumble coming from the bed behind him.

"Young man, we are only interested in making sure that you are properly cared for. You know we still haven't had any contact from your dad, or your brother for that matter."

Silence from the bed.

As Mrs. Hill looked like she was about to enter the room, Dean rose and strode toward her. "What do you have planned for Sam?"

"As I explained yesterday, Mr. Curtis, that is none of your concern."

Sam spoke up again, stronger this time. "Well, I'm making it his concern, because as far as I can see, he's the only one who cares about what I want. So you might as well tell us what you've come here to say."

Dean stepped aside and allowed the vulture into the room.

Glancing over her shoulder, wary of Dean's position behind her, she put her briefcase down on the counter and opened it up. She took out a few sheets of legal paper and handed them over to Sam. Dean walked quickly over to the side of the bed and began to read over Sammy's shoulder.

Without waiting long for either boy to finish reading, she summarized it for them. "The court has determined that your father has forfeited his parental rights by virtue of child abandonment, and not providing a safe and secure home for you."

Dean was ready to respond when Sam latched onto his wrist. "It says in the 3rd paragraph, 4th line, that he has 'temporarily' forfeited rights."

Dean wasn't sure if that was much better right now, but he could see that it heartened Sammy so he let him take the lead.

"Yes, that's what it says, but this is always the first step when placing a child in a more secure situation."

"I was in a secure situation – before you came along."

And for a moment, she softened her stance. "Sam, I know you think your dad takes good care of you. All kids want to believe that. And maybe you can't remember … but I can't forget the condition you were when I first met you. You were in agony, you were … ", she paused, apparently uncertain if she should elaborate, "you were in a great deal of pain, young man, and there was no family here to support you. Nobody here could treat you, and everyone at the hospital _wanted _to help you, but the one man who could is still nowhere to be found."

"He'll be back. He just can't be reached by phone right now. As soon as he gets the message, he'll come." Dean wasn't sure if that was Sam's confidence or hope speaking.

"So in the meantime," she went on as if Sam had never interrupted. "…we've found a great family for you who is willing to take you in and make sure you get the follow-up care that you need."

"What about my brother?" Sam demanded.

"Your brother – have you heard from him?"

"My brother is an adult. When he gets back here, he could take temporary custody of me!"

"Sam, I'm sorry to say that though he is a young adult, the court would not look generously on him as your guardian. He hasn't shown himself to be … well, even to be available any more than your father has, and an 18 year old boy is not prepared to take care of the additional needs you will have when you are released. You will need consistent support - both physical and emotional, as well as strict supervision of your pain medications and daily follow-up physical therapy. An undependable 18 year old will not be able to provide a good environment for that. The best place for you to go now is with your foster family," and the fragment of humanity she'd briefly shown was gone.

Dean started to rise, ready to intervene, but Sam squeezed his wrist again. "But, he could petition the court for custody, couldn't he?"

"I certainly wouldn't count on that young man."

"How could he do that?"

"You just worry about getting better, Mr. Winchester. We'll worry about finding you the best place to live," she picked up her briefcase and turned to the door.. "Don't worry, I'll see you again very soon. Goodbye Mr. Winchester, Mr. Curtis."

"Dean," Sam turned urgently to his brother after she was gone, "we need to get a lawyer."

* * *

_Thank you so much for your reviews, I truly appreciate your taking the time and enjoy reading them!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Progress**

by Visionairy

"_You just worry about getting better, Mr. Winchester. We'll worry about finding you the best place to live," she picked up her briefcase and turned to the door.. "Don't worry, I'll see you again very soon. Goodbye Mr. Winchester, Mr. Curtis."_

"_Dean," Sam turned urgently to his brother after she was gone, "we need to get a lawyer."_

As soon as Mike had been there about 20 min., Dean left to make a few calls. The phone rang a few times and Dean was beginning to worry when it was finally answered, "Hello."

"Jim – how're you doing? It took you a while to answer the phone."

"Dean – it's good to hear your voice. I'm doing much better, not quite as fast on my feet as usual, but I'm getting there – thanks to you."

"I'm glad they took good care of you, Jim."

"Hey, I wouldn't have made it out of there without you. And, Dean, I'm sorry I had to drag you into it, I should have been more careful in the first place. Your dad will probably say I'm losing my edge."

"My dad would say you never had one, " Dean teased.

The Pastor laughed in agreement. "So how are you and Sam doing - or is it too much to ask that this just a social call?"

"Jim, that's what I'm calling about." Dean's voice had lost its levity.

"Are you okay?" Dean could virtually see the man shifting forward in his seat, all business.

"Me, yeah, I'm fine."

"What about Sam?"

"Not so much."

"What's wrong Dean?" He could hear a soul-deep sigh on the other end of the line.

"Our worst nightmare," Dean growled out.

If Pastor Jim wasn't worried already, he was now. "Talk to me Dean, what's going on?"

"Sam's in the hospital and they're trying to take him away from me. They're accusing Dad of abandonment and I can't get hold of him. It's bad, Jim, and I've got to figure out what to do. I can't mess this one up."

"Dean, how is Sam? What's wrong?

"He got hit by a freaking drunk driver. And the hospital wouldn't treat him until they could get ahold of Dad, which of course they couldn't, and they couldn't even get hold of me. He … they … they just left him to suffer until the court decided to take custody of him!"

"Dean, I'm so sorry! When did," there was a long sigh, "This happened while you were helping me."

"Don't start with that. I couldn't have stopped the I-so-hope-he's-dead drunk anyway. It's not your fault."

There was a small pause while the pastor considered the impact of the statement. "I guess not, but think about it Dean, it certainly wasn't yours. But I am sorry."

"Thanks, yeah, me too."

"And as for blame, we'll see what your dad thinks about me pulling you away from Sam when he gets back," he said with a wry smile.

"Oh, don't worry about dad, he'll … understand. We still have to watch out for each other."

"How bad is he?"

"Broken leg, crushed ankle, broken ribs, internal bleeding. They've patched him up and he's recovering now, but we just need to make sure they don't take him away from us. That would be worse then all the other crap put together!"

"Don't do anything crazy until I get there Dean. Remember, when you're dealing with this kind of situation, you have to keep calm and play the game smart."

"Yeah, well, right now I'd rather just grab him and run."

"I know, Dean, but …."

"Don't worry, Sammy still needs his IV meds, traction, machines and all the other stuff that goes with it. I can't break him out for a while yet, anyway. Not at least until he gets rid of that damn foley." Dean shuddered dramatically.

"There's that to it," Pastor Jim could picture Dean's disgusted expression. "And Dean, this's got to be really scary for Sam. Make sure he knows that if they do have to take him away, it's not permanent. We'll make sure of that."

"I already talked to him … but I can tell you right now, that ain't gonna happen."

"I'll be there soon, Dean. Be patient, and hang in there – for both of you. I have a friend who may also be able to help, and I'll see if there's any way I can reach John or Bobby."

"Thanks Jim, but are you sure you're up to traveling? A couple of days ago, you couldn't even stay upright on your own."

"Don't worry about me too, boy. Like you said, we have to watch out for each other. I'll see you soon."

Dean clicked his phone shut, checked his watch and headed up to see if he could catch Dr. Phillips when he came on shift.

Making a quick stop for some coffee at the hospital cafeteria, Dean grabbed a couple of slices of pie. If Sam didn't want some, well, Dean could figure out what to do with his then.

Under the guise of dropping off the pie, Dean checked up on Sam again. He and Mike were watching basketball on the TV, and Sam looked relatively comfortable and relaxed. Realizing he'd screwed up by only bringing two pieces of pie, Dean sacrificed his slice to Mike and left with both munching on their treats and his hands stuck only with the coffee.

Checking his watch, Dean went on up to Dr. Phillips office where he found the man going over charts at his desk. When he tapped on the glass, the doctor beckoned him in.

"Dean, how're you doing?"

"I guess that depends on the news you have for me." Dean took the offered seat, reached over and grabbed a pen off the desk and started playing with it. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear the news, but Dr. Phillips appeared upbeat.

"Well, Dean, I was just going over the reports from the last shift. It looks like we can start getting your boy up and around."

"Really? Already?" This was great news.

Dr. Phillips smiled at the young man's enthusiasm. "He's ready to be removed from oxygen for longer periods to allow his lungs to get stronger. If all looks good when I check him, we're going to remove the continuous heart and bp monitors. It should allow him to rest easier."

"I don't know … I, for one, kind of like to know it's still beating," Dean offered in semi-jest.

"Don't worry, Dean. I won't take it off unless I'm fully confident that he's ready for it. We'll also remove his IV, and all his meds will now be administered orally. We can also remove the foley as well."

"Oh, he'll appreciate that, believe me." Dean grinned.

"I've no doubt. Of course, that means he'll have to get up on a regular basis. But that's what we want. It'll be very uncomfortable for him at first, but he needs to start moving his muscles again or he'll stiffen up and it'll be a lot harder in the long run.

Dean inwardly cringed. "That's gonna hurt." He could only imagine how uncomfortable it would be for Sammy. Every part of him was already hurting in some way. And moving that leg and ankle… shit, that was going to be miserable! But they were used to pushing themselves, and this would help get him get healthy again. Dean had had many years experience pushing a reluctant Sam through intensive workouts. He'd do whatever he could to help him through this.

"It'll be okay, Dean. I'll send a physical therapist to help him the first few times, and we'll make sure he's got the correct pain meds so he won't need to suffer any more than absolutely necessary." The inference that he'd already been through enough of that came forth loud and clear.

Dean shook off his morbid thoughts, and moved onto the other necessary information. "What medications is he still on?"

This kid really had a handle on the pertinent information. "We're down to one antibiotic now. He's still getting muscle relaxers, and strong to medium-strength pain killers depending on his level of activity. I haven't had to give him a sedative for a couple of days, but if he has trouble sleeping, we could use that as necessary."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Okay, so… so he is doing better."

"Yes, Sam is a strong kid. He's steadily improving, but it will take a long time for him to get back to where he was a week ago."

"Sam's also a fighter, doc. He'll do what's necessary, and I'll make sure of that."

"Dean, have you been able to reach your dad yet?"

"No," Dean grumbled, "and that's not likely to change for a while. I'm not kidding. He's working and he's away from a phone, but don't you think for one minute that he wouldn't be here immediately if he knew what was going on." Dean struggled with his anger. "He hasn't done anything wrong. He's a great dad and you can't let them try to take Sam away from us."

"Dean," the doctor leaned forward over his desk, "…as I've already told you, it's out of my hands now. You have to realize that once he's healthy and can leave the hospital, Child Services will have control over his living arrangements. And from what I checked into yesterday, a sibling … even an adult sibling, has no legal voice unless the court transfers custody to you."

"I'm trying to work on that right now. But I have to be there for Sam as well, and I don't want to scare him by making calls from his room."

"Feel free to come down to my office anytime you need, Dean. I'll ask my secretary to let you in to the conference room if I'm not here. We'll take care of Sam while you're busy."

The eighteen year old reached out and grasped the physician's hand. "Thanks again, doc. I'm," and the sincerity in his voice was palpable, "I'm really glad that Sammy has you for his doctor."

"Yes, well, … after watching you with your brother over the last couple of days, I've seen how much you do care about him, and how much you're willing to do for him. And, well, … if you need a character witness for the judge, I'd be glad to step forward."

Dean's face split into a wide grin. "See, now I might even have to bring you a piece of pie."

* * *

The morning sun was shining in Sam's window the next day, but it certainly didn't mirror his mood. After insisting that he only need the milder pain killers, he'd begun his second day of movement. The first day hadn't been so bad, but apparently he had been fed the extra-strength pain relievers prior to standing for a few minutes, but then had slept for hours afterward. Trying to avoid that today, had put him in this situation. 

Halfway to the bathroom, Sam couldn't deal with taking another step forward. Neither did he want to sit down, or take any steps backward to the bed. He was stuck, with a throbbing ankle, pulsating leg, and an overly sore chest from leaning on the crutches. He could feel every pulse of blood through his body and his head was beginning to add to the symphony.

Meanwhile, Dean was coaching from the sidelines. "Come on Princess, just 10 more steps."

This was similar to several other 'motivational' statements that Dean had been throwing his way over the past 20 minutes.

Deciding that, no matter what, he wasn't about to show any weakness to Dean, which of course was the older boy's plan, Sam struggled to move his foot forward one more step.

Watching closely, Dean lept up when he saw the shaking in his brother's limbs. He quickly slid under the arm with his broken leg and eaased Sam's weight onto his shoulder. "Okay, enough for today. You did great, kiddo. Want to head back to the bed?"

Sam groaned, he reallly had reached his limit. "Damn it, Dean. I don't think I can make it back, and besides, there was a reason I left the bed in the first place." He tilted his head toward the bathroom and raised his eyebrows to make a point.

"Okay, Sammy." He stepped in closer to his brother to balance his weight more effectively. "Just lean on me for a while. We don't have to go anywhere fast. Catch your breath."

Sam hadn't realized that he was breathing faster, and could feel the sweat on his face. He tried to evenly balance on Dean and one crutch.

"Nah, Sammy. Give me the crutch for a minute, it's only hurting your chest. Lean on me until you're ready to move again. After all, it's no problem to hold a lightweight like you," Dean smirked.

"Lightweight? Gee thanks, Dean, but last I checked, I was growing taller than you." Sam subtly eased more weight over to balance on his brother. It did take some of the strain off.

"Taller, you kiddin' me? Dream on! Your shoes have thicker soles, and that's the only reason you think you're taller."

"Sure Dean, whatever you say." For a while they just stood there together looking at the landscape out the 3rd floor window. Sam missed the feel of the outside. It had already been a long time since he'd had the freedom to walk outside.

"Uh Dean," Sam shifted again. "I think I can start again now."

"Okay, Sammy, but – I can't believe I'm saying this – you gotta be careful not to overdo it. Try it with one crutch and I'll be the other, at least until you get to the rails at the door."

"Does that mean I can throw you under the bed when I'm done with you?" Sam grinned.

"Laugh it up, cast-boy. You'll regret this when I just sit back and coach tomorrow."

But by then Sam had made it to his goal and with that in sight, it was easier to put all his weight on the bars and ease himself into the small room. Dean appeared with a stool for his leg, and then made a strategic retreat, and with careful movements and maneuvering, Sam finally completed his task. But the thought of the endless walk back, however, served to make him hesitate to step back out.

"Moving in?" Dean's voice carried into the smaller room.

Sam's strained voice replied back, "Yep, just planning out the deck."

Dean grinned, at least his kid brother could still give a snarky reply. He rolled the wheel chair up to the door. "Limo's here. Can't wait here all day."

Sam cautiously leaned out the door and despite his frustration at having to get into the chair, he was relieved to see it. He didn't think there was any other way he could have made it back to his bed right then. It may rarely be said out loud, but he sure was glad to have Dean back with him.

By the time Dr. Phillips left the next morning, Sam Winchester was mobile again. Not fast, nor graceful, and certainly not pain-free, but he could – with help – make it to the restroom and back to his bed within a reasonable amount of time. And he hadn't damaged any of the careful repairs they'd made to his body. The doctor was quite pleased with his progress, both physically and mentally since Dean had shown up. He went home in the early morning hours with a relaxed step, one he hadn't felt since the young man had shown up several days ago.

* * *

_But you just know it can't stay that way … __Thanks again for the any comments you may have. I truly appreciate hearing from you!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, but when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Reinforcements**

by Visionairy

_By the time Dr. Phillips left the next morning, Sam Winchester was mobile again. Not fast, nor graceful, and certainly not pain-free, but he could – with help – make it to the restroom and back to his bed within a reasonable amount of time. And he hadn't damaged any of the careful repairs they'd made to his body. The doctor was quite pleased with his progress, both physically and mentally since Dean had shown up. He went home in the early morning hours with a relaxed step, one he hadn't felt since the young man had shown up several days ago._

Dean continued to sleep in the room with Sam, despite Sam's half-hearted suggestion that he go home and get some real rest. From time to time over the past few days Dean saw the vulture lady from Child Services circling around Sam's room, and it helped to make Dean even more vigilant. Apparently he had intimidated her enough that she no longer tried to enter the room, but he did catch her talking with one of Sam's other doctors when Dr. Phillips wasn't on shift. Since Dr. Phillips was Sam's primary physician, the other doctors didn't spend much time with him, and Dean preferred it that way. The less interference, the better.

Dean woke up with a stiff neck and a pain in his back, but when he groaned as he straightened up, he was reminded of the pain that Sam had had to suffer through for so long. His was a drop compared to the ocean of pain his little brother had gone through because of him and their dad. He couldn't believe that Sam could forgive him so easily, but when Sammy and he had some time away from here, he was going to have a long talk with the kid, make sure he understood how indescribably horrible Dean felt about it. He knew it was cliché', but there truly was nothing Dean wouldn't have given to have taken his place, to let his pain-in-the-ass little brother avoid not only the broken bones and agonizing pain, but the feeling of abandonment when he faded in and out of consciousness, with no family, nobody, to be there for him.

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts, this line of thinking wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd talk with Sammy when they had the opportunity. Meanwhile, there was a lot that had to be done. With Sam snoring gently in the background, Dean stepped quietly out into the hall to try that cell phone one more time. He expected the same response he'd been getting every day since he found Sam, and he wasn't surprised this time when the voice mail picked up once again. Flipping the phone shut, he'd left enough messages already, he tried Bobby's phone again on the off-chance, but garnered the same results.

Down the hall he could see the breakfast trays making their way toward Sam's room. Dean gave a small wave and a big smile to the nutrition specialist. Hopefully, there'd be an extra tray on the cart by the time she got to him.

He was just turning around to go back into the room when he thought he saw someone else wave back. Turning back around, he spotted a familiar smiling face heading down the hall toward him in a wheelchair being pushed by an older woman with graying hair and a warm expression. Another man, with curly dark hair, followed behind.

"Jim! ... Maggie!" He started to run down the hall to greet them, but found he couldn't bring himself to step more than one room away from his brother. Silently urging them along, he waited as Maggie picked up the pace to meet him.

"It is so good to see you, Jim! And you, Maggie! You guys sure are a welcome sight." Maggie came around and gave Dean a big hug.

"Dean, I wish it were under better circumstances, but it's always good to see you." Then the pastor gestured back to the other man, "this is Tom Saunders. I've know him for a long time, and he's one of the best family court lawyers I've ever met."

Dean shook his hand and evaluated the man in front of him. He looked to be in his late 30's and though he carried an official-looking briefcase, his jeans and t-shirt made look less like the corporate-style lawyers Dean wanted to avoid. "Hear you're in need of some legal advice."

"You could say that."

"We can talk once you've had a chance to catch up. I'm on no schedule here. I owe the pastor big time, and I'm glad to help out where I'm needed."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never cared for lawyers, and he sure as hell had no idea what needed to be done to get Sammy back – legally. He'd made some calls, but couldn't find one he could trust his brother's future with. Dean hated to admit it, but his short term plan had been to either keep the vulture from getting anywhere near Sammy while he was in the hospital, or by running so she couldn't find either of them. Now, at least, he had someone Pastor Jim trusted to help him on the legal side, and Dean could go back to focusing on Sam's physical well being.

"How're you doing, Dean? Are you getting along okay?" Dean turned back to the wheelchair and grasped the Pastor's hand. Although Pastor Jim looked far from his usual healthy robust self, he still looked much better than he had when Dean had left him several days ago.

"We're good."

Looking at Dean's face and wrinkled clothes, though, Jim could see the stress this was causing the young man. "Dean, I'm sorry you've had to deal with this on your own."

"Don't you think I ought to be saying that to Sammy?" Dean asked wryly.

"Dean, we know Sam's gone through hell, and we'll do everything we can for him, but if there's anything I can do for you – to help you – or to help you help him, let me know. We're here to help both of you through this." Dean turned his head to look back toward Sam's door, and to blink a few times. "Hey, kiddo, you were there when I needed you. I know you can be stubborn about this, but let me be here to help you now."

Dean turned back and nodded, "Thanks, Jim." And looking at his face, Jim could see that he meant it. "Come on in, Sammy'll be really happy to see each of you." Then quickly gesturing forward he ushered them into Sam's room. "He slept pretty well last night, but he's got to wake up for breakfast now anyway. Can't let him get too much sleep or he gets lazy."

"Lazy?" Sam's voice could be heard as Dean entered the room. "Who're you calling lazy, jerk. You…"

Sam stopped mid-sentence when he saw who was accompanying his brother. "Ah, sorry about that." But Jim just rolled right up to the bed and reached his hand out to squeeze Sam's shoulder.

"Sam. It's so good to see you. You're looking good."

Sam took the comment for what it was, though he knew that in this case 'looking good' was purely subjective.

"Oh please," Dean groaned, "don't ever tell him that. He thinks he looks really good already, and I can just imagine how the wounded card is going to play when he gets around girls again."

"Dean!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it sure is good to hear you both at it again." Jim enjoyed the banter and the reunion was enthusiastic and warm. Sam was very happy to greet his visitors, and they talked about nothing in particular for a long time. Breakfast was delivered, and though Dean did earn his own tray, he found he had three other people to share it with. Nobody stole anything off of Sam's tray, though, so Dean leaned in to help himself.

He could see that Sam was tiring, and he knew he had to get some exercise in for him before he slept again before lunch. Both exercise and rest were necessary at this point in his recovery.

"Hey Jim, remember when Sam had just learned to walk and he kept planting his face on the floor and then looked at us like he couldn't figure where the floor had come from." Sam shook his head in resignation. "Well, he's looking almost as coordinated now. Want to see?"

Dean was sure he heard something in Sam's cough that sounded remarkably like 'bite me'.

And in his best circus voice, Dean continued, "See the weeble-boy as he wobbles and tries not to fall down. Come on, Sam, go brush your teeth and wash your face. I don't want to see egg on your face, literally dude, anymore."

With Dean's help, Sam slid his leg off the side of the bed and lowered the bed so his other foot was touching the floor, and then he carefully raised himself off the mattress. Dean provided the crutches, but Sam eyed Jim's wheelchair, "Dean could get me a chair now, and we could race."

"As tempting as that sounds, Sam" Jim smiled, "I think the point is for you to get some exercise in this morning. Maggie already made me walk for a while this morning. I didn't realize how much like your dad she could be when she puts her mind to it."

"Great, you two can have shuffle races in a couple of days."

Sam grimaced as he bumped his cast on the edge of the bed. He listed to the conversation continue as he struggled his way across the room. It was slightly easier than the day before, but it was still agonizingly slow and painful. He couldn't wait until movement came as second nature to him again. This was just plain miserable. He closed the door to give himself some privacy, and leaned against the sink, trying to get up the energy to use the facilities.

"You okay in there, Sammy?" Dean yelled.

"I'm fine," Sam gritted out. "Give a guy some time will ya'."

He heard some more laughter, but didn't really think it was directed in his direction, so he went about his business.

Sam struggled all the way back to the bed. It was all Dean could do to stay seated and try to be the picture of disinterest. He knew Sammy had to get stronger and it was going to be a long and painful road, but his jumping up to intervene was certainly not going to be appreciated today.

By the time Sam made it back to the bed, he felt like he'd just completed a marathon. He was exhausted, and hurt, and within a few minutes, despite his best intentions, he was fast asleep.

Dean knew Sam had pushed himself today. It was the first time he'd made it there, and back, on his own. He tried to remember if Sam had taken his pain pills today, but decided he wouldn't wake him to ask. Hopefully, it would start getting easier for him soon.

Now that Sam was asleep, it was time to get down to business, and Tom opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers and his phone.

Tom discussed the options with Dean and Jim. They could go to court now and petition to have Dean take temporary custody of Sam, but without John here, and without a history in the town, an eighteen year old sibling would likely not win in court - especially since they had already awarded temporary custody over to Child Services.

And now that Sam was doing better, they would have to find a way to keep Sam away from a foster family until John arrived. There were a few other legal processes they had to go through has well, and Tom pulled out the forms for that. He needed letters from Pastor Jim, and anyone else who could vouch for John as a fit and involved parent. Dean was pacing and he wasn't sure he could handle any more of this. Paperwork and rules were not his thing. He started to consider how to lower Sam out the window.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Winchester," another nurse announced her entry in a way too loud and cheerful manner. 

"Can't you see he's sleeping," Dean hissed.

"Yes, sir," but Dr. Phillips has ordered some tests for his patient, and they need to be done now, when we can fit him in the schedule.

Dean grimaced, but realized that this wasn't a battle he really needed to fight. "Just give me a minute."

"Sure thing, we're waiting for the tech to bring a wheelchair, and then we'll have him down and back before you know it."

Dean stepped back over to the bed and lightly shook Sam's shoulder. Remembering how sore Sam would likely be from his earlier walk, Dean backed off and tried just talking to him. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty or you'll miss your tests."

Knowing that would bother Sam on some deeper level, Dean smirked, but Sam groaned. "Sorry, dude, but you have to wake up for a bit. They need to do some tests…" He turned to the sunshine lady, "What tests is he having?"

She stepped over with a small paper cup containing a liquid sedative. "He'll be having a set of chest x-rays, leg and ankle scans which will involve a lot of manipulation of his leg and ankle, and finally Dr. Phillips wants an MRI to check to make sure there aren't any hidden problems elsewhere. He would probably do better if he took this. The tests at this point can be quite uncomfortable."

Sam was conflicted. He didn't like the feeling the drugs gave him, but his stomach turned with the memory of the excruciating pain of going through these tests the first time without anything. "I don't know…" He turned to Dean.

"What do you say, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother, "It'd probably help it go faster, and it may help you get back on your feet this afternoon."

Sam was still quite uncomfortable from his earlier trip across the room, and decided to relent this time and take it. He hoped Dean wouldn't think he was weak.

"That's my boy," Dean seemed pleased, and so Sam relaxed a bit and took the cup.

"Tom will you be here when we get back?" Dean asked.

Miss Sunshine interrupted, "Sorry, but you can't come in the room when he's having the x-rays or the MRI." She watched as Sam swallowed the last of his sedative. "And with this medication, he won't feel any discomfort. Tell you what, if you want, you can finish up with your friends here, and meet us downstairs in about 45 minutes and I'll bring you in to see him then. You can even roll him back to his room."

Sam saw that Dean was going to fight this. "Dean, please. Stay with Jim and Tom." Sam's shaky voice immediately got his attention. "Please. I need to know they won't take me away from you. I really _need_ you to take care of this first." He looked in Dean's eyes, but his own eyelids were already drooping. "I'll be fine. Jim, tell him he s'd stay," he started to slur his words, "In fact not feelin' bad et all ri't now." And with a goofy smile, Sam's eyes slide closed again.

The tech that came to take Sam to Radiology was well known to Dean and had always treated his brother kindly. "Okay, Sammy. We'll work out a plan. And don't drool on the nurses." He turned to the tech, "Call me if he needs anything or if he's done early. I'll be down to get him in 30."

"Bye Dean," Sam half waved. And Dean walked with him as they pushed a sleepy smiling Sam down the hall to the elevator.

"Bye Sammy. Sleep well."

Remembering why it was so important he stay here and work this out, Dean returned to the room with renewed fervor. "Okay, tell me what we need to do to protect Sammy and keep him with us, and I'll make sure it gets done."

* * *

_So, what do you think? All comments are extremely appreciated! Thanks so very much to those who have reviewed so far! I'll try to post again tomorrow._


	11. Chapter 11

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

_Disclaimer: I don't own them, I wish I did. Just borrowing them for a while._

* * *

**Chapter 11 -- Failure**

by Visionairy

"_Bye Sammy. Sleep well."_

_Remembering why it was so important he stay here and work this out, Dean returned to the room with renewed fervor. "Okay, tell me what we need to do to protect Sammy and keep him with us, and I'll make sure it gets done."_

After another twenty minutes, Dean felt they had a plan in the works that had a more than reasonable chance for success. Tom knew it wouldn't be a simple discussion, but the courts did like to keep families together whenever possible, so they had that going for them. Now it was a matter of getting John back as soon as possible, and tracking down viable character witnesses from their checkered past. Meanwhile, Dean would take care of Sammy at the hospital while Tom and Jim followed up on the necessary paperwork and the procedures to set up a meeting with the judge in court.

As soon as Dean headed downstairs, Maggie made Pastor Jim go through his own miserable physical therapy. As painful as that was, he still couldn't believe what John's youngest had had to go through. If only he hadn't called Dean away, Sam could have avoided most of his pain and suffering. But the pastor was also smart enough to know that one did not cause the other, so he would just make it a point to do everything he could to help the family stay together so they could help Sam get back on his feet, physically as well as emotionally.

* * *

Dean got off the elevator at the first floor and followed the signs to Radiology. He stepped into the small waiting room and went right up to the desk to find out when Sammy was going to be done, and if he could go in now. The receptionist looked a little puzzled, then glanced down at her log. "Let me … let me just check on him, I'll be right back." 

That was odd, but Dean never could figure out all the procedures these hospitals set up. At times it was like trying to kill a spirit, you had to spend a lot of time figuring out just the right way to handle one, and the next one was usually completely different.

He looked into the tiny office, and saw Sam's name on the list along with the scheduled times, so he was in the right place. He looked around the small waiting room, and saw a couple of people reading entertainment magazines, and trying to look relaxed. He turned back to the office and tapped on the window. He got no response. Just as he was heading over to the door to go in, another face came to the window. This one looked like hospital administration. "Are you here for Samuel Winchester?"

"That's me," Dean got back in two quick steps. "How is he? Can I see him now?"

"And you are …?"

Great, another busybody. "I'm representing the family," Dean said vaguely.

"Well, Mr. Winchester isn't ready to see you yet. If you'd please have a seat, we'll let you know when you can come in."

"And how much longer will he be in there?"

"I'm not sure, it depends on how many tests he needs, and how involved his injuries are. We'll be sure to call you when you can see him," and she had the nerve to slide the glass window closed in front of him.

Dean checked his watch. Dr. Phillips was due on shift in 45 min. Usually he arrived early. If he couldn't get back to see Sam in another 15 min., he was going to get Dr. Phillips to come down here himself and let Dean in. He grabbed the chair closest to the window, ignored the magazines, and stared down the lady at the window. At least she wasn't going to forget that he was waiting.

After another five minutes of waiting, Dean had reached his limit of patience. He checked his watch again and tried to decide whether to push his luck here and ask again, or go see if the doc came in already. Then, following his gut instincts, he decided that he wasn't going to wait for permission any longer. As soon as the admissions nazi turned her head, Dean walked over to the door to the exam rooms and let himself in. He'd just have to find Sammy on his own.

Passing a couple of open doors, he stopped to listen at the next one. Sounds of a young child crying at the third door, and the voice of an elderly lady at the fourth kept him moving along. He passed the hall labeled mammography, and almost bumped into a small brunette girl about his age in blue flowered scrubs. "Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yeah, I'm looking for my brother, Sam Winchester. He's been down here for about half an hour and I'm supposed to see him now."

She smiled up at him. "Which room did they tell you he'd be in?"

"Oh, take two lefts and then a right, or two rights and then a left." He gave her his most charming smile, "I guess I've gotten myself lost."

"Okay, then what was your brother here for?"

"He'd been in a car accident recently."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She could clearly see his distress and wanted to help.

"It's okay, thanks. He's getting better, but they were going to take more x-rays of his leg and chest. Oh, and an MRI, too. I wanted to come with him, but they wouldn't let me in for the tests."

The pretty face in front of him looked confused. "Is he about 15, cute guy with longish dark hair?"

Dean's forehead creased, had this girl been checking out his baby brother? Well, no accounting for taste. "Uh, yeaaah. I guess. I'd say he's a skinny kid who needs a haircut, but anyway, where is he, I need to see him now."

"But … he's not here anymore." She looked concerned.

"Did they take him back up to his room already. I'm going to kill them if they left me sitting there when he was done …" Dean stopped. He saw something in her expression that didn't bode well. "What?"

"I thought," she paused as if trying to find the right words to say. "I thought he was the one whose family had abandoned him." At the furious look on Dean's face she added, "His dad never came …"

"His dad," Dean railed, "is out of town on business. He'll be here as soon as we can get hold of him. Now where is my brother?"

"But," she looked like she wished she could be somewhere other than having this particular conversation with this particularly irritated young man who had gone from charming to irate in just a few seconds. She looked back and forth down the hall to see if anyone else was available.

"Tell me," Dean softened his voice, realizing that this wasn't getting him the answers he needed. "Where is Sam?" He put his hand on her shoulder and looked in her eyes. "I'm not the bad guy here, please, I need your help. I just need to find him."

"They, um …" she wasn't sure how this news was going to go over. "…well, I heard them say he was doing well enough to be released."

"What? Are they crazy? He can't even walk twenty feet yet!" Seeing her response, Dean knew he had to temper his reactions. "Please, tell me. Where is he?"

"He, uh …he was taken out a few minutes ago by Child Services."

Dean took a step back until he bumped into the wall. "What?! … what are you talking about? They can't just take him. He can't have left. … He still needs to be in a hospital. He's gotta be here! Oh, God, how …" Dean stopped and tried to pull himself together. "Where'd they take him?"

"I don't know," and seeing the stunned look on the young man's face, she added, "They said they were afraid that his … brother … you, I guess … or his dad, would try to prevent him from leaving, so they moved him when you weren't allowed in."

"Son of a bitch! How the hell …"

"Quiet down, or you'll have to leave." She looked like she meant business.

Dean didn't want to quiet down. He wanted to slam his fist into the wall. "How was Sammy? Was he scared? Was he fighting them?"

She took a few steps back, "He was still asleep. He probably doesn't even know he's left the hospital yet."

"So they took him without even telling him? What the hell! And what will they do when he wakes up … lock him in a cell?! What kind of a place is this?" Dean couldn't calm down, it was all just too horrendous.

"I'm sorry. We took good care of your brother while he was here. The doctor said that he was ready to be released, and as a ward of the state, he was sent home with his foster family." She took another step away and looked like she was ready to call security.

Dean forced himself to bury his temper. "Please, I just need to know what kind of vehicle they put him in? Do you know which way they went?" Dean was desperate.

"No, when he was done with his tests, they wheeled him out the side entrance there."

"How long ago?"

"About ten minutes, something like that."

"Okay," Dean tried to think, he had to get all the information he could. "Did you recognize the people that took him?"

"One of the people is from Child Services, she's over here from time to time when needed."

The vulture lady, Dean scowled. "Anyone else?"

"I think he was with his foster family. There was a man and a woman walking along side. They weren't from the hospital staff, and they looked like a couple ...not official looking."

"I'm sorry to be causing trouble for you, but is there any way you can find out who they are for me? Please! I just need to talk to them."

"I'm sorry...but what's your name?"

"Dean."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but I don't have access to those records. You might ask Dr. Thompson."

Dean's face turned dark. "Was that the son of bitch that signed him out to a freaking fake family."

She took another two steps down the hall, "I don't know. His name was on the orders."

"Damn it!" He put his hand up in a to stop her comment, "Sorry, thanks, … thanks for your help." He started to turn away and then turned back and grabbing her pen he wrote down his cell number on a corner of paper he ripped off one of her forms. "Call me if you see him or the 'family'" he chocked over the word, "again. I'm not going to cause any trouble, I just need to talk to him. Please."

He handed the paper back to the girl and took off trying to decide if he should head back to the room and get Jim and Tom or just go straight for the jugular with Dr.'s Phillips and Thompson.

As he headed for the doctor's offices he pulled out his cell and called Sam's room. The voice that answered was Tom. Quickly recapping the information, Tom was as stunned as Dean was. He told him to wait till he met him at the elevator, and considering the mood Dean was in, he decided he better let Tom and Jim handle this. If Dean handled it the way he wanted to right now, there's no way they'd ever let him near his brother. He'd give talking a chance first, but wouldn't give it very long.

* * *

Sam's head lolled to one side. He could feel that creepy disjointed feeling along with the accompanying nausea. He was still very groggy and decided that he didn't really want to wake up fully yet. He just laid there and let the rocking of his bed lull him back to sleep. He was slightly curious as to why his bed was rocking, but it reminded him of Dean's fascination with Magic Fingers beds and he relaxed as he drifted away again.

* * *

Dean couldn't wait by the elevator, he ran to the window and desperately looked around the parking area. He knew it had been too long already, they had stolen his unconscious brother right out from under him. He couldn't even take care of his brother when he was right there. How could he have let this happen. He, of all people, should have known better. Damn it! 

Raised voices from Dr. Phillips office down the hall interrupted his self-loathing. Dean was half way down the hall when the elevator doors opened and Tom and Jim came out. Motioning them to be quiet, he listened at the door.

"…kid couldn't even stand up for more than five minutes at a time! Do the words infection, muscle strain, ripped internal stitches, or compromised lung function mean anything to you? Oh, that's right …YOU'RE not his damn doctor!"

Dean could hear Dr. Phillips throw something across the room. "You couldn't wait till I got here, damn it! What a load of garbage. You know damn well you planned it for when I wasn't going to be here. You don't think that boy's been through enough!

Yes, I know damn well that's his brother. ….. No, he's done nothing but be kind and supportive to him. I don't give a damn. It was the right thing for my patient. ….. I know what helps my patients get better, and having his brother here has been better for him than any medical procedure I can provide. Did you even see how Sam responds to him? ….. I didn't think so. That kid worships his older brother, and will do things for him, things that are hard and painful that are needed for his recovery. He wants him to be proud of him. We would never have had him out of bed yet if it weren't for his older brother's encouragement. And you even have the immense audacity to remove him from his side.

Do you have any idea how he's going to feel when he wakes up? Don't you think he's had to deal with being on his own long enough? ….. What? ….. His dad? I don't give a damn about the dad. We'll hear his story when he gets here. What I do see is a boy who knows the love and support and encouragement of his big brother. And to tell you the truth, it's hard to show caring like those boys do if they haven't learned it from someone. Yes, Stan … like their father.

You really want to know? I didn't tell you that kid was his brother so you wouldn't pull some stupid stunt like this. ….. Yes, I know who I'm talking to." His voice lowered in volume so Dean moved closer. "No, I know, Stan. We both thought we were doing the right thing. I know, but the court gave us the authority over his medical treatment. How do you explain that he got pulled before his medical treatment was complete?

Yes, I know there are other doctors he can see, but ... You released his medical records? You need my signature on that! ….. Oh, right. And I was so unavailable today that you had to sign off on it. Stan, I can only hope this poor boy or his brother doesn't try something reckless, when they finds out he's been virtually kidnapped from his family. ….. Yeah, well I'm the one that has to explain it to his brother, and I don't think you want to be here for that. ….. Right, yeah, I'll let him know." The sound of a phone slamming in a cradle could be heard clearly in the hall, followed quickly by a door flying open.

"Whoa, doc."

"Dean." He looked at the gathering in the hall. "So, how much did you hear?"

"Enough to know it wasn't your idea. But, I need to know where Sammy is -- I have to get him back."

"I don't know where he is any more than you do, Dean, but come on in, let's talk." He gestured the group back into his office.

* * *

_If you're enjoying this, or have any comments, please let me know. I appreciate your reviews, they are very helpful and really motivating!_

_And, yes, there's a little more action from here on out. Dean and Sam never seem to be able to catch a break for long._


	12. Chapter 12

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of Child Services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Fury**

by Visionairy

"_Dean." Dr. Phillips looked at the gathering in the hall. "So, how much did you hear?"_

_"Enough to know it wasn't your idea. But, I need to know where Sammy is -- I have to get him back."_

_"I don't know where he is any more than you do, Dean, but come on in, let's talk." He gestured the group back into his office._

Sam woke up with a sticky feeling in his mouth. His leg, and ankle in particular, were hurting and the bed he was laying on was flat. He tried to clear his mind and vaguely remembered that he had had some tests, and he thought they must be over by now. "Dean."

His voice came out quite weak even to himself. He tried to swallow and open his eyes. Everything felt slow and awkward. His chest was sore. Where was Dean, he said he'd be here. "Dean!"

The effort it took to call out helped bring him back to full consciousness, and he didn't like what he saw. He wasn't in a hospital room anymore, he was in some kind of a bedroom – a rarely used bedroom from the looks of the clean but exceedingly sparse decoration. A small TV sat on a dresser and there was a vase with some old plastic flowers on the night stand along with a TV remote control. At least someone had left a small glass of water next to the bed and Sam reached out to quench his thirst. His hand was unsteady, though, and instead of picking up the cup, he managed to knock it over. It fell to the carpeted floor with hardly a sound.

Sam tried to sit up to get it, but that re-awakened the pain in his chest, and he was forced to lay back, gasping for air. "Dean!' he tried again.

This brought a middle-aged lady quickly into the room. "Oh, Sam, I see you're awake. Now, don't worry, you're safe at home with us now. We're your new foster family. I'm Emily Samuels, and this," a stocky man with a stern face entered, "is my husband, Tony."

"Wha… what?" This didn't make sense, who were these people. He was supposed to be in the hospital. What the hell was going on? This must be some kind of nightmare.

Following close behind Tony was the woman Dean had dubbed the Vulture Lady, and the nightmare all began to fall into place. This wasn't a sleeping nightmare, this was a real life nightmare. Somehow they'd managed to take him away from his family. They'd taken him away from Dean. And boy, was he going to be pissed.

The Vulture Lady stepped forward, "Now Sam, the hospital agreed to let you be released into the Samuels home so that you could continue to heal in a more supportive environment."

Sam glared at her. "How the hell did you do it? How'd you get me out of the hospital without Dean stopping you?"

Emily Samuels looked worriedly at her husband. "Now, Sam, we know that you've had a rough situation at home lately, but we're here to help you through this. We just want you to get better and make sure you are in a suitable home for a growing boy."

Sam thought the lady was nuts, but wasn't sure if she was just misinformed or if she was as guilty as the Vulture Lady. "Then why the hell was I brought here without my knowledge. How could you take me away when I was, damn it, unconscious!!"

Tony stepped forward, "Watch your mouth boy. If we're going to give you a place to stay, and risk facing that delinquent family of yours, you'll show my wife some respect."

"Delinquent family?! How dare you. My brother is here, and he's been taking care of me!"

Vulture Lady interrupted. "Yes, that's exactly what I thought … and that's why we had to leave in such a clandestine manner. These kind people didn't want to face threats or retaliation from an angry eighteen year old. And just because he's willing to sit with you in a hospital room for a few days, doesn't mean he's the best choice to care for you."

If Sam could have reached something he would have thrown it at her, the heavier the better.

"When can I talk to Dean?" Sam demanded.

"Sorry, kid," Tony didn't sound sorry at all. "There's no phone in here, or upstairs at all. I don't want you to bring your brother out here to harass my family. We've been asked to keep an eye on you, and we will, but we won't let you cause any problems. I'm a policeman and I'm used to dealing with difficult kids. You won't get away with anything while you're here."

Sam shook his head disgustedly, "You know, I'm feeling healthier already."

"Well," the Vulture Lady patted Sam on his good leg and Sam pulled it away from her touch, "I'll just leave you to get settled in, then." She turned to Tony, "I'll have a doctor stop by tomorrow afternoon to check him out. Meanwhile, just keep an eye on him. Bye, Sam, feel better." And the Vulture Lady was gone.

A vicious werewolf would be handy right now. Or a good mean vengeful spirit. Why were the destructive ones only around when you didn't want them? Maybe a black dog would get her on the way out to the car -- and Sam wouldn't lift a finger to help.

Tony came over and picked up the empty cup and placed it back on the night stand. Sam couldn't bring himself to ask for more water, so as they left he stared at the cup and tried to moisten his dry lips with his tongue.

Sam might not be able to move, but he could think, and he poured all his pent up frustration and anger into one thing – getting the hell out of this house and finding his way back to Dean.

* * *

Dean had reached the end of his patience for the hundredth time that afternoon. He furiously paced the room and listened to Dr. Phillips and Pastor Jim and Tom discuss the merits of one plan over another. Unfortunately, none of the suggestions involved wreaking pain and death upon the Vulture Lady or Dean would have been much more enthusiastic. 

They'd called Child Services, but nobody there would give them any more information than to say that Sammy was safe and staying with his legally appointed foster family. Tom went over to the courthouse to apply for a hearing. They'd decided they had to proceed without John, or Sam could be kept away from them for far too long. Of course, it was too long already as far as they were all concerned.

Dean was warned to stay calm and appear the picture of a mature role model for his younger sibling. Chasing down the family, seriously threatening or hurting them, and stealing his brother back would not help them win the all important final-round of custody in the courts.

Dean understood the logic, but couldn't resolve that with his need to get Sammy back -- especially when he was so vulnerable right now. Who would make sure he was taking his medicine, and watch when he took the last pain pills? Who would make sure he ate right and did his exercises? These were people who really needed to go through the gates of hell.

Dean kept his cell charged and near him at all times, hoping against hope that his brother would call. But after a few hours, Dean realized that this was also something Sam was prevented from doing. And all it would take would be to put his cell phone outside of a 20 foot diameter from his bed. He still couldn't make it that far without resting, and certainly not without his crutches.

Dean's stomach was in knots and he wanted to punch something or someone. He even circled around the offices of Child Services that night trying to work out a way to break in and get to the files himself, but the damn town was so small, the offices were part of the courthouse, which also housed police headquarters for the area. There was no way he could be confident of getting in and out without being seen. And if he was caught, that would just kill his legal case to get Sammy back.

Dean also checked out the other 24 hour medical clinic in the area in case they'd seen Sammy and left his phone number to call in case anyone there saw him. Finally he agreed to Pastor Jim's request to go back to the house with him. He knew Jim was just trying to get him to calm down and rest for a bit, but Dean also knew that the pastor needed rest himself and had been overdoing it ever since he'd arrived. They silently agreed to humor the other, and the group headed back to the current Winchester house.

Dean joined Tom the next day when he went back to the courthouse to see if his petition for a court date had been set. One week from today was the earliest they could get on the family court docket. One entire week – seven whole days beyond the two he'd already been missing. Tom said it was a miracle they got on so soon. Dean didn't think it was nearly soon enough. And what if the judge was in cahoots with the Vulture Lady. Dean's head was pounding and after he dropped Tom off at the library so he could research local family court decisions, Dean drove to the school.

Mike had continued to stop by each day, but had a lot of work to keep up with in school. Earlier, Mike had volunteered to go around to each of Sammy's classes to ask the teachers for a list of necessary make-up work. Dean had called Mike soon after Sam had disappeared, but Mike knew nothing of where Sam might have been taken, though he said he would see what he could find out around school. But as Dean thought about it, maybe his foster family would think about Sam's schoolwork; maybe the teachers or the school were in contact with the people who had Sammy. It was his only current lead, and he had to check it out.

* * *

John Winchester and Bobby Singer had had many difficult hunts in their time, but this was becoming one of the most irritating. Between the uneven and rocky terrain, and the damp cold and altitude, not to mention the creature they had been tracking for the past eight days, John just wished he could take a break and find some way to contact the boys. He missed them whenever he was away. He even found he could look back on some of the arguments he'd had with Sammy with a more neutral eye and could at least acknowledge some of the points Sam had been trying to make. 

Adolescence was difficult – for both the child and their family. It was particularly difficult with a strong-willed son like Sam. Dean had struggled with it as well, but between his commitment to the hunt, and his unswerving dedication to Sammy's well being, he rarely showed the struggles he was going through. He'd do what needed to be done, and hide his feelings for when he was by himself. Occasionally John heard the results of his emotions boiling over, but it rarely came out at John and never at Sammy.

They were both good kids and he was proud of them -- proud of their strength, proud of their spirit, and proud of their independence. He could see that they would grow up to be excellent hunters, and he thought that just maybe he should mention that to them at some point. But now, he had to concentrate on this creature. The big game hunting season was ending today, and the amateur hunters would be gone. So if they didn't catch it's trail now, it would likely hole up again until next year and then more grisly deaths would occur.

He could hear the helicopter arriving to shuttle the last set of hunters away. John Winchester did not admit defeat, but the weather was moving in and if they didn't get off this mountain soon, they could get trapped in as well. Disgustedly, John and Bobby agreed to start heading back down the mountain to their truck, and hoped they would be able to catch its trail on the way down.

Just as they finished packing their gear, they were surprised to hear a message come through on the radio, "John Winchester, are you reading me?"

John looked to Bobby. Only a handful of people in the entire world knew they were up here, and only two of them would know what radio frequency they'd likely be on. "Winchester here," John responded.

"Mr. Winchester, my name is Jack Dugan. I'm the helicopter pilot. I've been asked to pass a message along to you from a Pastor Jim Murphy."

Both John and Bobby's hearts dropped at the words. There was never a good reason for contacting a hunter in the field unless there was an urgent problem at home. This would not be good.

"I'm sorry to tell you that your son, Sam, was in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver. It says he's stable now at St. Mary's Hospital, but there are other complications that desperately need your attention. Dean is fine and is with him, but Pastor Jim says you need to contact him as soon as possible. D'ja get that?"

"Got it -- thanks." Bobby answered for John who looked like he was still trying to absorb the news. "John …?"

"Let's go," was all John could say before he started his rapid descent to the vehicles below. All thoughts of the creature were gone, it could have the empty mountains, John needed to get home to his boys and Bobby was going to make sure he got there in one piece.

* * *

As Dean drove, he turned on the police radio his dad kept in the car. Maybe he could pick up a clue from that. He was desperate. He'd checked all the doctors' offices and physical therapy facilities in the area, but nobody had seen his brother. With no leads, he still had no way to get to Sammy – and he'd promised his brother that he would get him back. 

In between the reports of speeding and a teenager shoplifting, Dean heard a report of a 14 year old boy that caught his attention. Paramedics had been sent out to 2580 Harper St. to transport a non-responsive male child, 14, who appeared to have suffered a drug overdose, having taken an entire bottle of, coincidentally, the same extra-strength pain killers Sam was on. The radio said they'd started an IV and oxygen and were trying to administer charcoal to absorb the drugs. They were getting ready for transport.

Dean turned up the volume and pulled over to the side of the road to listen. The boy's heart beat was stable for now but his eyes were slightly dilated, and they wanted to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. "No, no, he'd never do that. It can't be .. he wouldn't." Dean's mind just wouldn't go there.

But it was the mention of 'foster parents' that put him into action again. Apparently the foster parents were going to follow the ambulance to the hospital where they would meet with the police. Dean couldn't believe this could be Sam, it just couldn't be, but he still had to get to the hospital first. His tires screeched on the pavement as he did a complete 360, and the engine roared into high speed as Dean raced back to where he had last seen his little brother.

* * *

_So just how far is Sam willing to go to get home? Please let me know what you think of this chapter._


	13. Chapter 13

**Unsupervised Minor **– Pre-series. John's on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Treatment**

by Visionairy

_But it was the mention of 'foster parents' that put him into action again. Apparently the foster parents were going to follow the ambulance to the hospital where they would meet with the police. Dean couldn't believe this could be Sam, but he still had to get there first. His tires screeched on the pavement as he did a complete 360, and headed back to where he had last seen his little brother._

Dean arrived just behind the ambulance. He'd heard the siren as he came from the opposite direction and put on even more speed to catch up with it. He pulled in the no-parking area alongside the emergency entrance and abandoned his car without a second thought. The gurney carrying the patient was already on its way down the hall and Dean raced to catch up.

His heart was in his throat when he recognized the dark hair and then his brother's sharp features.

"Dr. Phillips," Dean grabbed the paramedics arm, "you need to call Dr. Phillips, that's his doctor."

"Okay, we'll let them know. Are you a relative?"

"I'm his brother."

"Is he allergic to anything, any medical history we need to be aware of?"

"No allergies, and he … he was in here all last week from a car accident. Dr. Phillips has his file." Dean followed into the exam room. "How is he?"

They transferred Sam's limp body from the gurney to the exam table and hooked the IV bag and oxygen lines on the stand next to him. "He's breathing, and has a steady heartbeat. They'll need blood tests to determine the amount of barbiturates in his system."

"Oh God, Sammy…" Dean slumped back against the wall. How could he have screwed up so badly.

Dr. Phillips came rushing in and the paramedics immediately gave him their report. Handing over the empty bottle of pills, they left. Dr. Phillips immediately turned to face Dean. "You found him? What happened?"

Dean straightened up, "No, I just, -- on the police scanner … I heard, about a kid with foster parents who'd OD'd and they were taking him here."

"Dean, does Sam have a history of drug abuse?" Dr. Phillips began drawing blood from Sam's arm, but was waiting for an answer.

"No! Sammy, no he's never taken drugs in his life!" Hell, the kid had barely even had a drink.

"Do you know where his foster parents are?" and the doctor saw Dean flinch.

"Those kidnappers are supposed to be following him in. You can't let them have him back, doc. Look what happened!"

"We'll talk about that later, Dean. Right now I have to find what happened and how many pills he might have taken." Two nurses entered the room, one pushing a tray of equipment. "Cathy, get those blood samples to the lab right away and wait for the results. Get them back to me as soon as possible." The doctor continued to check Sam over. "His blood pressure's slightly low, but he has a strong heart beat, and his breathing doesn't sound significantly compromised. He's stable for now. Dean, can you stay with him while I go find out what the hell happened? Let me know if he has any further difficulties."

"You got it, doc. I'm not going anywhere this time." The doctor acknowledged the truth of the statement and nodded at Dean.

He sure couldn't blame the kid for his hyper-vigilance. "Lora," he spoke to the remaining nurse. "Get all the supplies together to pump his stomach. I'll be right back."

As they both left the room, Dean reached out to Sammy, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Dean felt like he was going to implode. "Dammit, Sammy, I told you we'd take care of this. You knew we'd find a way to get you back, you know we wouldn't leave you … you damn well know _**I**_wouldn't leave you! How could you do something so … so … "

"Relax, Dean.," Sam interrupted, "I'm not tha' stupid." Two dark green eyes slid partially open in front of him.

"Well you sure as hell… wha ..what?" Dean realized that Sam was looking directly at him.

"You're awake! Are you okay? Just lie still, they're going to get that junk out of your system."

"They don' need to."

"Of course they do, you…" And then he checked the size of his brother's pupils for the first time. They were dilated, but not excessively so. He started to get a little light-headed so he sat down quickly next to his brother. A suspicious feeling that was equal parts fury and joy began to arise. "So, …exactly how many of those pills did you take, Sammy, when you OD'd?"

"Two."

"Two?" This just was getting too weird, and where was that doctor anyway?

"Two." Sam sounded so calm. "Jerk."

"Well, Einstein, how do you explain being unconscious when they rushed you in here?"

Sam's mouth turned up in a worried grin, "Not s' much."

"Not so much what?" Dean demanded.

Sam bit his lower lip, "Not s' much unconscious as … kinda tired."

"Sam, you better tell me what the hell you're playing at here, because look at me … do I look like I have any patience left here?"

"Dean, I w's trapped with those … those people. They wouldn't let me use th' phone, I couldn't even call you. They locked me in th' room, mov'd my crutches, an' wouldn't let me go anywhere." Dean could feel his brother's frustration. He'd had enough of being away from his family and he couldn't put up with it anymore, a feeling Dean could unquestionably identify with. "I couldn't g't back to you any other way -- an' I really didn't want to re-break my leg … though it was th' next option."

"Shit, Sammy, so you're really okay?"

"Yep, jus' kinda tired."

Which would explain the slurring in his voice. Two extra-strength pain pills weren't good, but they _would_ reduce his blood pressure, cause dilated pupils, and result in misguiding the paramedics enough to get him transferred to the hospital. And, hopefully, the doubled dose wouldn't harm his brother. "Damn. That's, .. that's just …" Dean pushed his hand through his hair.

"Incred'bly brilliant," Sam prompted.

"Not the words I would have chosen little bro." Dean's heart was still racing, and Sam would eventually pay for this, but it had resulted in them actually occupying the same room together for the first time in too long. But as Sam's Plan B belatedly sunk in, Dean was shaken. "Don't you even think about doing something like that … after the pain you've been through, how could you?"

"Dean! Shhhhhh. You're not s'posed to be yelling at the kid who a'tempted suicide."

"Murder," Dean muttered. "If you scare me like that again, it won't be suicide, it'll be murder."

Sam did start to look a little concerned now. Even though he was still a little out of it, he could see that Dean was upset.

"Ssorry, Dean. I … I just din't know what else to do."

"Yeah, well, I know what you mean. I was going crazy, too. But I would have found a way to get you back, you know."

"I know, Dean. I believe you. I … jus' couldn't take it anymore. I'd alrea'y been away from you too long. And I knew they wouldn't tell you where I was or you'd already hav' come to get me. It was th' only thing I could think of t' do."

"You did good, Sam," Dean tightened his hold on Sam's arm. "Just, please, _never_ do something like that again! I can't take it. Seriously, dude."

Sam blinked sleepy eyes up at his brother and nodded.

"And now," Dean's smirk returned, "… not that I don't think this had some of the earmarks of a particularly ingenious plan … but how are you planning to explain this to the doc?"

Sam looked a little more tentative, blinking his eyes slowly a few times before answering. "I'm hoping he sees me as a p'tential suicide risk an' keeps me for observation for a week or two."

"On the basis of two pills?"

"Well, I did leave a few on m' bed aft'r I flushed the rest, and I might 'ave been holding one or two when they found me." He looked up to see how this was playing with Dean. "An' this has been a traumatic experience."

"Not much for understatements are you?" Dean took a deep breath and let it out. "Damn it, Sammy, when I saw it was really you coming in from the ambulance … on a drug overdose!!" Dean dropped his head in his hands. "You sure as hell better never put me through something like that again!"

The two nurses and Dr. Phillips walked quickly into the room. "Sorry for the delay, boys. I had to re-run the blood tests a few times to make sure I had the correct results." He walked over to the opposite side of the bed from Dean and looked down at Sam. "Sam, you've given us quite a scare here. Can you hear me?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. There was no sound from the patient and his eyes were shut tight again. Dr. Phillips bent down and opened Sam's left eye and then his right and shone a pen light in each. "Well, there's definitely evidence of drugs in his system. Cathy, is everything set up to pump his stomach?"

As the nurse nodded, Dean felt a twinge in the hand he was holding.

"Dean, this is normally quite an ordeal for the patient, so you may want to wait outside." Dean looked up in concern at the doctor, but didn't budge. "Lora, there were three other people out in the waiting room that were quite concerned about Sam's well-being." Dean realized that Pastor Jim, Maggie and Tom must have found out somehow. "Let them know that this may take some time, but he should be fine."

When Lora left, Dean glanced at the other nurse then turned to Dr. Phillips, "Uh, doc .. are you sure that this is necessary?"

"Oh, most definitely. When someone ingests as much narcotics as this young man has, prescription or not, we need to get it out of his system immediately." The doctor was watching Sam's face very carefully now. "Cathy, I can handle this myself. Why don't you go help Dr. Jeffries in Exam 4. I'll take care of this."

As the nurse left, Dean looked to Dr. Phillips to try to figure out what was going on. Surely the blood tests had shown how little of the drug Sam had actually ingested.

Dr. Phillips held up a hand in warning. After the doors had swung closed and after another second or two had passed, he turned back to his patient. "Sam, you can open your eyes now."

With no evident motion, Dean leaned in to second the doctor, "Jig's up Sammy, you've been found out."

Sam hesitantly opened his eyes. "So, c'n we avoid the whole, uh, stomach pumping scenario?"

"You know, Sam, I really should go through with it for no other reason than to punish you for putting your brother and me through this."

"Hey, doc, cut him some slack. It really was a pretty smart idea," Dean, surprisingly, found himself definding him.

The doctor resumed checking Sam out. "I'll consider that possibility."

"Hey, hey … why are you doing that? He's fine isn't he?"

"Just confirming it. The drugs he had in his system were significantly higher than his recommended dose, but since it's one-time only, it shouldn't harm him. He still looks a little rough, though. How are you feeling, Sam?"

"Tired, but m' leg and chest don' hurt now."

"Yes, I'm sure. But I'm hoping, Sam, that I don't have to give you a lecture about abusing prescription painkillers."

"God no! I hate this f'eling. I hadn' taken any since I w's kidnapped."

"See, I knew it!" Dean threw his arm over toward Sam. "They didn't even freaking take care of him!"

"Maybe, Dean, but please calm down, it's not helping Sam." He turned back to his patient, "And, Sam, the painkillers are necessary when used in prescribed doses. You should use them when you're uncomfortable. They can help you get your necessary exercise and rest," the doctor gestured at his patient, "This, for example, not being a good example of proper rest and recovery."

"So what do we do now?" Dean was determined not to let Sammy out of his site. He sure as hell didn't want to see him taken away and then brought back a day later with a re-broken leg. And he had no doubt that that's the way it would play out. The kid sure was stubborn.

"Well, the way I see it, Sam is my patient, and I need to consider both his physical and emotional needs. He appears to have tried to harm himself, I think it would be remiss of me not to keep him for some time under observation."

Sam's resulting smirk led Dean to think he would be insufferably full of himself for the near future. "Can't you pump his stomach anyway … just for the sake of realism?"

"Dean!"

"I can imagine how much fun you two are to live with," the doctor laughed. "Makes me doubly glad I had girls." He pulled out his stethoscope, "Sam, I want to thoroughly check you over anyway, make sure you didn't mess up any of my fine work in your escape. By the time I'm done, you'll probably be glad you took the extra pain killer. And that should take care of the time it would take to pump your stomach, so hopefully, nobody will be the wiser."

Suddenly the exam door flew open as a tall forceful man with dark hair and a beard rushed in. He was quickly followed by another man who looked just as flustered and unkempt. He was wearing a hunting shirt and ragged ball cap and pushing another man in a wheelchair. The nurse was the last to come in. Breathless, she asked the doctor if she should call security. "They wouldn't listen to me. These two just got here, and I told them to wait in the …"

"It's okay, Cathy. Let them stay, I think I need to talk with them about this patient, anyway. See where else you're needed," and as the shaken nurse began to leave he added, "I don't want to be disturbed for a while."

* * *

_I'm sorry to say, the next chapter is the last. It'll be a little longer than usual, but probably shouldn't be broken in two. I've really enjoyed writing this and reading your comments and reviews. I sincerely appreciate your taking the time to send them to me!! Thank you very much! And - what do you think of this chapter? _


	14. Chapter 14

**Unsupervised Minor** – Pre-series. John's on a job, so when 18 yr. old Dean has to leave on a rescue mission, he is forced to leave 14 yr. old Sam by himself. When a drunk driver brings Sam to the attention of child services, the family's worst nightmare occurs.

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Family Reunion**

by Visionairy

_Suddenly the exam door flew open as a tall forceful man with dark hair and a beard rushed in. He was quickly followed by another man who looked just as flustered and unkempt. He was wearing a hunting shirt and ragged ball cap and pushing another man in a wheelchair. The nurse was the last to come in. Breathless, she asked the doctor if she should call security. "They wouldn't listen to me. These two just got here, and I told them to wait in the …"_

"_It's okay, Cathy. Let them stay, I think I need to talk with them about this patient, anyway. See where else you're needed," and as the shaken nurse began to leave he added, "… and I don't want to be disturbed for a while."_

"Dad!" Dean jumped up from the chair by Sam's bed.

"Dean." It only took two steps for him to be beside his boys and reach out to him. "How's Sam doing? What happened?" He looked down at Sam and was startled to see two wide eyes looking up at him.

"Sam." He gently touched the boy's face and he couldn't believe the profound relief he felt in being in the same room with his boys and seeing them both, if not entirely well, at least alive and conscious.

"Dad." Sam responded. He reached out and grasped his father's arm. "Dad, iss good to see you."

"You too, Sammy." He looked with great fondness at the boy in the bed, then turned the same look to his oldest. "Dean, I hear you've been busy. I'm glad you made it safely back."

Dean smiled back at his dad. Now, he knew, they would be a family again.

Despite his immense relief at seeing both his boys, John turned his attention back to the son in the bed. "What happened, Sam? I called Jim as soon I could and he told me some of what's been going on. And that was bad enough, but as soon as I get into the area, Jim called to say I should meet him at the hospital instead. Then when we got here, I'm told you've been brought here by ambulance for a drug overdose! Sammy, what the hell is going on?"

"Dad," Dean intervened, "take it easy. It's not what it seems, and Sam's not entirely with us right now."

"Y's I am," Sam slurred.

Dean stepped between Sam and his dad, "No, Dad, he's not."

"Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Phillips stepped forward. "I take it you're Sam and Dean's father."

"I am," he put out a wary hand to shake his, "And you are…"

Pastor Jim spoke up, "This is Dr. Phillips, John. He's been treating Sam since he arrived in here last week. He's a good man, and he's taken real good care of your boys."

John searched the doctor's face for confirmation that he had his boys' best interests in mind. Apparently the man stood up to the scrutiny. "Thank you. When I found out that Sam'd been hurt … I just … well I got here as fast as I could."

They heard a small hrumph from Bobby that indicated that speed limits were probably tripled on the way back.

"So," John glared at the doctor, "I have a lot of questions for you, but first, how is Sam? Have you been able to get the drugs out of his system?"

"I really didn't need to do that," the physician raised his eyebrows in Sam's direction.

"What, why not?" John demanded. He wanted answers and he wanted his son treated, and not necessarily in that order.

Sam looked pitifully up at his brother for some much needed back-up. "Dad," Dean interjected, "you know how you're always saying that Sam's a little too smart for his own good."

"Out with it Dean."

"Well, after what Sam has been through over the past couple of weeks, …" Dean hastily explained Sam's elaborate hoax to the anxious faces, while Sam did his best to look contrite and remorseful. He wasn't sure how this explanation was going to go over with his dad.

Bobby was the one to start laughing first, "John, you gotta hand it to him. Brilliant strategy. I'm proud of you boy."

Sam smiled at his old friend and then glanced nervously over to Dean.

Jim weighed in next, "Sam, I'm also impressed, but if you ever do something like that again, as I'm sure Dean has already clearly explained," Dean's expression showed he'd been correct, "you will give more than one of us a heart attack."

"I'm sorry Jim." Sam looked truly contrite. "I couldn't think of a'y other way."

John finally weighed in. "Sam, you did what you had to do to get back to us. I won't say you did the wrong thing, but ... Sam, you never should have been in this situation."

"I know Dad," and Sam looked truly despondent. "I'm really sorry." He knew he should have handled the entire situation differently, he should never have allowed them to take him to the hospital. And no matter what Dean had said, he should have just found a way to deal with his injuries at home.

"I'm sorry, sir," Dean spoke up. "It was my fault. I left Sammy alone when I know it was my responsibility to protect him."

"Sam … Dean," John looked at both his boys with frustration. "Sam, there is nothing you could have done differently. You were injured and needed to be treated at the hospital. Nothing that has happened here has been your fault." He checked Sam's eyes to make sure his youngest was truly absorbing his message.

When he was satisfied, he stepped back and put his arm on his oldest, "Dean, … you did exactly what was needed. Yes, you need to protect Sam when I'm away, but nothing you could have done would have prevented a drunk driver from hitting him."

"But I wasn't there for him, you don't know the whole story."

"I do, Dean. And I wouldn't accept Jim's apology either. Neither he nor you have anything to apologize for. He needed your help, and you saved his life."

"Sam," and the large man's shell cracked as he took his youngest's hand, "Sam, I'm sorry, son… for forcing you go through this on your own. And Dean, I owe you an apology as well. You were in an untenable position. I took off on a job without making sure there was a way for you to contact me in an emergency. You had to make a hard decision, and as far as I'm concerned, it was the right one at the time."

"Dad," Dean objected. "…but I didn't take care of Sammy."

"Dean, I know you're quite both quite capable of taking care of yourselves, but as Tom has quite vehemently explained to me, I already should have had the forms in place to insure that you could make legal decisions for Sammy in my absence. Without it, there's nothing you could have done anyway. I guess I stopped thinking of you boys as kids a long time ago, but it's not true, at least not for Sammy yet, as far as the law is concerned."

"Dad, i'ss okay, I'm fine."

"No, Sam. You're not. And it _is_ my fault. But I promise you, I'll never let that happen again. I already talked with Tom on the way back here. He's going to write up the papers that insure that Dean can also make critical medical decisions for you in my absence, at least until you can legally make them for yourself. Pastor Jim, Bobby, and even Maggie have also requested notarized medical forms so if anything, God forbid, were to happen to both of you at the same time, any one of them could step in on your behalf until I could be reached."

Dr. Phillips stepped forward, "Well, you've taken a lot of heat out of my lecture for you. It's good to see that you're beginning to understand the severity of the situation you left your boys in, and that you won't allow anything like this to happen again." He looked into John's eyes, "Sam's had a _very_ rough time of it, and had to be very brave throughout. He will need a lot of support over the next few weeks to recover fully, but he is a strong young man and with his brother's unflagging support, I have no doubt he will do fine."

"I understand," John turned to meet the eyes of his younger son. He hoped that Sam could see in them the depth of the regret he felt.

"I'm certainly glad to see that Sam, here, has a lot more family support than I originally believed. I'm also glad, seeing your size, that I don't have to follow through with my original inclination as to what I'd do when I finally met you."

Dean grinned, he knew he liked the doc, but knowing what he was willing to do for Sam made him a friend for life.

John smiled. "I want to thank you for being there for Sammy."

"You may want to rethink that," the doctor said, "when you hear what happened the first three days your son was here." He paused and looked directly at John. "I was the one who contacted Child Services to have him taken out of your custody."

A flash of anger filled his eyes, but John knew better than to take it out on this man. "Jim has explained why it was done, … I just didn't realize you were the one to do it."

"Dad," Sam intervened, "I'm sorry … he knew I just couldn't take it anymore, it wasn't his fault."

"Easy, Sam," John spoke softly. "I know. I know you did everything you could to hold on, but I never came."

"Me either," Dean's voice was filled with reproach.

Pastor Jim finally intervened. "Well, as pitiful as this mutual self-loathing session is, it's not getting us anywhere. Tom is already putting together all the papers we'll need both for the future, and for the upcoming court case. Our main concern now is how to prevent Sam from being sent back to live with those people."

"Well, we sure as hell aren't going to let them anywhere near him now!" Bobby was unwavering.

Dean could always appreciate Bobby's direct approach. They were definitely kindred spirits in that area. "Damn straight, Bobby."

"Yes," Dr. Phillips added, "Dean, Sam and I have already discussed this. It is my official medical position that a minor boy at risk of suicide should not be allowed to leave the hospital until we've had the time to conduct an extremely thorough evaluation."

Bobby slapped John on the back. "I told you it was a brilliant idea. Good one, Sam."

Sam looked pointedly over to Dean, "Yep, that's what I thought, … but ya' can't please everyone."

Dean's return expression promised revenge, so Sam looked quickly away.

"What about the Vulture Lady?" Sam pushed.

"The freaking scavenger from Child Services who arranged Sam's kidnapping," Dean clarified.

"Mr. Winchester, Judge Davis and I go way back. He's been assigned to your son's case. In fact, he was the one who arranged it so I could start treatment on Sam, and he pulled parental rights based on my evaluation of his situation. I'll give him a call and let him know what's going on, and why I'm keeping Sam here until the court case. He's a fair man, he won't let her get her hands on Sam prior to the hearing."

"Thank you." John could see why Dean and Jim seemed so supportive of the man.

"Don't thank me yet. This way you don't get full custody of Sam either, until he determines that it is in the best interest of this young man."

"But doc! You know we'll take care of him."

"Dean, stand down," John warned.

"Don't worry, Dean. The judge rarely revokes parental rights, he much prefers to keep families together. He just wants to insure that the family is aware of all the things they need to do to insure the safety and well being of their minor children. I think your dad is in for some hard questions, but it also appears that he's already covering most of the issues that needed to be addressed."

He turned to John, "His previous injuries though …"

John nodded and went through the list in his head – cracked ribs, broken foot, wrenched wrist, stitches in his head – how much were they aware of. "Yes, I know."

"I told h'm about the bike accident," Sam pointedly spoke up. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Do you have medical records for that? It would help in court."

"I wish I had it, but I didn't keep any of the paperwork. My wife died many years ago, when Sam was a baby. She was much better at those things. But, Dr. Phillips, you can see his injuries were treated effectively." And understanding the underlying concern he added, "I swear to you that I have never physically harmed my boys."

Dean couldn't listen anymore without speaking up, "Doc, look at me. You've gotten to know me, how I feel about Sam. Do you really think I'd allow anything like that to happen to Sammy?" He waited till he saw the reaction he wanted, "Well neither would our dad."

Pastor Jim joined in. "Dr. Phillips, I'd be more than willing to testify on John's behalf. I've known his family for years. They've stayed with me for long periods of time, and I can honestly say that there is nothing they wouldn't do for each other. That man loves his boys, and they love him. They may not be the most conventional family, but they would do more for each other than any family I've seen."

"And I may not have the reputation of the pastor here," Bobby added, "but I've also known the Winchesters since Mary died. There is nobody around that could take care of these boys the way John does. He would die himself before he let anyone harm his boys."

"Okay," he relented, "I understand, and every voice will help in court." Dr. Phillips made some notes in Sam's chart, "But right now, let me get on the phone and make sure Sam does not have to leave here until this is decided by the court. I'll ask Cathy to move Sam into a private room now. She can take him up the back elevator, and you can accompany them. I'll talk to Mr. and Mrs. Samuels and let them know what's going on. Mr. Samuels didn't sound like he was particularly interested in taking him back, anyway. "

He smiled at Dean's response, "Way to go, Sammy!" As he turned to leave he could see Sam's extended family surround the young man. And despite the fact that Sam could barely keep his eyes open any longer, Dr. Phillips could see how much their presence was helping to heal the young man. He couldn't help but admire the boy's resourcefulness, but now he had to make sure his efforts weren't in vain. As the door closed behind him, Dr. Phillips was already making his call.

* * *

"And finally, sir, in addition to exhibits 3 through 6 that arrange for appropriate medical care in absentia for his minor son, Samuel Winchester, John Winchester has…" 

"Sam-u-el," Dean uttered under his breath so only the so-named minor could hear.

"It's Sam, dude. How hard is it to keep that straight," he whispered back.

"You know," Dean grinned innocently, "If you'd stayed with that family, your name woulda been Samuel Samuels."

"Yeah, Dean, I got that."

"It's enough to make someone run away."

"Yep."

"Sam-u-el Sam-u-els, you gotta admit, it's got a ring to it."

"Right"

"Chicks would love it."

"Uh huh."

"Sammy Sammy-els"

"Dean, shut up!"

"Boys!" Pastor Jim gave them a stern warning. "If you can't keep quiet, you'll have to leave the courtroom."

"…and in the event of the his untimely death," their lawyer went on, "John Winchester has also set up a will that gives full custody of Samuel Winchester to his older brother, Dean Winchester.

"Your ass is mine, dude." And though that was said as if to scare, Sam recognized it for the amazing gift it was. If anything ever did happen to their dad, Dean was willing to be there for him, promised he'd be there for him – but where else would his big brother be. He had to admit it, it felt good.

Tom continued, "If he were to somehow survive both his brother and father …"

"God, no." Dean barely heard Sam's comment, but wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. He couldn't imagine the pain of being the last Winchester.

"… Pastor Jim Murphy has requested full custody, followed as well by Mr. Robert Singer. This gives three additional layers of support if he was ever to need it. And as you've heard from the many witnesses that came forth today: Pastor Jim Murphy, Mr. Bobby Singer, Mrs. Margaret – Maggie – Hopkins, all family friends with long histories with Mr. Winchester and his boys, along with notarized letters of recommendation from other long-time friends. This is in addition to recent local witnesses such as the compelling testimony of Sam's current physician, Dr. Daniel Phillips, who has described the physical and emotional support Dean has provided throughout the weeks of Sam's recovery, as well as John Winchester's consistent support since being notified of the accident. They have clearly refused to leave his side.

We've also heard from Dr. Gene Shelby, a licensed clinical psychologist that has met with Sam to determine his state of mind after the incident that brought him back to the hospital, and we have put into evidence his opinion as to what would be the best long term living arrangements for the young man. We've also heard from two of Sam's teachers as well as two of his friends, who were also in the accident, and have testified that Sam was a good friend, an excellent student, and had nothing but good things to say about his brother, Dean, and father, John.

We've provided evidence that Dean checked in with him prior to leaving the city on the day of Sam's accident, and answering machine and cell phone records that show he attempted multiple calls to his residence throughout the time he was gone. We also have a police report that verifies Dean's account of his time away.

We've shown strong evidence of a family that consistently protects and cares for each other, as well as the well being of others, and who can provide the most supportive, loving, and safe environment for this minor child. We ask that you immediately remand full custody of minor Samuel Winchester back to his father, John Winchester. Thank you."

The judge had already heard from the lawyer for Child Services, but considering what had happened in the very short time that the young man had been placed in a foster care situation, even they didn't push very hard to retain custody. The Vulture Lady hadn't even had the nerve to put in an appearance in court.

Dean reached over and grabbed Sam's shoulder as the judge got ready to make his decision. Over the past couple of days he had already mapped out the courthouse in his head. Dean knew exactly where the exit was that would most easily facilitate getting his injured brother out of the building quickly and into the waiting Impala. And not to be left unprepared, he had also mapped out the fastest way out of town as well as the best place to go into hiding. He doubted it would come to this, but he was a Winchester, and he knew how important it was to be prepared.

"Mr. Winchester," the judge began. "I could go into a long speech here about the importance of arranging for proper back-up support of a minor when you are out of town, but I believe this lecture is unnecessary at this point. I believe you have learned your lesson in a very personal and painful way, and I am pleased to see that you have made all appropriate arrangements for the future. I hearby immediately remand custody of minor Samuel Winchester back to his father, John Winchester. Take care of each other."

Sam couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding and the immense relief he felt to be finally, truly back with his family was intense. Dean grasped his shoulder and John grabbed him into a gentle hug. "I promise, son. This will never happen to you again." Then he said something Sam hadn't heard for a very long time. He leaned close and spoke for his sons' ears only, "I love you both very much." He _knew_ their dad loved them, it was just really nice to hear it from time to time.

On the way home, Sam reflected that though this had been an agonizing situation for him, he had learned from it as well. In their line of work, Sam had always known he had people in his life who were willing to die for him, he just never realized how many people loved him enough to be willing to live for him – no matter what – and that was just good to know.

* * *

By the time Sam got back to school, three weeks had passed. Thanks to Mike and his teachers, and Dean's coordination of books and paperwork, Sammy had most of his schoolwork caught up. It was with a certain amount of trepidation that Sam got his first ride back to school the following Monday. 

Noticing his brother's hesitation to open the door when he pulled up outside the school, Dean shut off the engine. "Dude, it's going to be fine. Just take it easy with that walking cast and avoid dodge ball during recess."

"Recess, Dean?"

"Oh, whatever you kids call it these days."

"Right, old man, cause it's changed oh so much since you graduated."

"Damn straight. Seriously though, Sam, if you need any help carrying something, just leave it in class and I'll come back with you after school to get it. Oh, and keep an eye out for the chicks. They just love the casts."

Sam rolled his eyes and eased out of the car. Dean wanted to race around to help him, but knew that would just undermine his brother's efforts. "I better go. Will you be picking me up, or Dad?"

"We flipped a coin. He won, so I'll be here," Dean whined.

"Yeaah, right. You so want to watch the girls leaving while you wait for me."

"Yep, and you better take your own sweet time. I'm bringing popcorn."

Sam shook his head and headed slowly but steadily off into school.

It was another three weeks before Sam hesitantly suggested that he'd like to go a basketball game with Mike again. Mike had lost his cast a couple of weeks earlier, and was back behind the wheel of, as Mike loudly bemoaned, his dad's '65 Volvo. Their team had made the finals and the whole school was showing up for the game. Dean hesitated only slightly before joining in to petition their dad to let Sam go. Surprisingly, both Dean and John saw this as a necessary step for Sam to get back on with his life.

So, armed with a fully charged cell phone and strict instructions to call immediately after the game ended so they would know exactly when to expect him home, Sam rode off with Mike to the game.

Neither boy saw the black Impala as it pulled out and followed a discreet distance behind them in the night. Dean trusted Sam, and he trusted Mike's driving, but, well, in their world, there was safe … and then there was Winchester safe. And Dean would never confuse the two again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and especially to those who have stuck with me throughout! And what did you think?_

_I hope you enjoyed the story. I particularly want to thank those of you who have taken the time to review a chapter(s). It has been exceptionally enjoyable to see your comments. They've been so interesting to read. Thank you!_

_If you have a chance, please let me know what you thought of the overall story. Thanks!!_


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